Disillusionment
by xoraxox
Summary: They're under no illusions that they're fond of each other, but maybe that's not important anymore. Almost certainly abandoned. Joren x Kel
1. Disillusioned

**Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce. I wish I was, but I am currently, totally broke, and this is my first fan-fic ever, so review!!.**

** 2nd Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce. I am a broke almost-thirteen-year-old girl from ****Texas****. Tell me, wouldn't being **

**Tamora**** require me writing before I was born? 3rd Disclaimer: Not Tamora Pierce. Not that old. Not yet. Not quite. Not **

**by a far bit.**

_Disillusionment_

_arimel_

_PART ONE_

_Disillusionment_

__

_Have you ever been so disillusioned with the world around you that you simply stopped thinking? That you _

_stopped looking, stopping dreaming, stopped living.  That you dulled, your sparkling eyes disappearing,_

_ that you  lost your hope, your dreams, yourself? I have. A long time ago. A long, long time ago, in fact; _

_I can barely remember I time unlike the time now, and it's only been five years. I can  only know that _

_I was someone different by a vague sense of loss, of sorrow,_

_ one I do not care to explore often..  And the funny thing is, no one ever noticed, not when I was saddest,_

_ not when I was coldest, not even Neal . . . . . . and him supposedly my closest friend. . . . . . . . . friend?_

_. . . . . . . have I ever had friends?. . . . . . . . _

"What's with **you, Mindelan?" he asked, one perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. "Seriously. Sulking around 'cuz **

your boyfriend's finally found a girl he likes?" Joren of Stone Mountain smiled sweetly, leaning against the

 door of my bedroom, he looked inquisitively at me, mockingly. "Can you spell **pathetic."**

I smiled in reply. "Joren, darling."

He looked at me calmly, ever the ice prince. "**Yes?" he inquired, arching his back to stretch his arms.**

"Get a life, Stone Mountain." I said, exhausted of dueling with him, not willing to bait him, just 

wanting to get it over with quickly so I could fall asleep. "Shut up. Get a clue. Neal **isn't my boyfriend, moron.**

 Better yet, forget getting a clue, heck with that, why don't you just get the **hell out of my room? What're you ****doing in here, **

anyway?"

Joren smiled again. His beautiful face was like ice. He smirked, showing perfect even white teeth. "**Annoying you,"**

 he said, in a reasonable tone of voice, as if talking to a small child who needed to be told how life worked, as if that 

was thoroughly ordinary, which indeed, it was, "what does it look like?"

My mouth dropped open in disbelieving annoyance. "You little-"

He looked at me, same expression, although with a slight twisted sneer. "Ta-ta for now, Mindelan," he said mock-sorrowfully,

 throwing his arms out in an expression of melodramatica. "Parting is such **sweet sorrow, but I'm afraid—****terribly sorry, I ****must **

apologize--I have an appointment. At the perfumery. I really must dash. The scent I wear is just not, not, not, **feminine enough,**

 sorry, I was searching for the proper word, at least not for the court **these days. What ****is the world coming to. . . . ."**

_Jerk, I thought, smiling in reply, blowing a sarcastic kiss at him and slamming the door in his face. __Seriously. _

_Someone should whack him really hard on the head. I'd cry at his funeral, I think. Just a little bit, even. I wonder_

_ how much assassins cost these days? And the sad part is, that wasn't a joke. I don't think it was a joke. . . . . _

I turned to my bedroom mirror and scrutinized myself, carefully. I would never be beautiful, not in the classical 

sense of the word. I was too tall, a bit too thin, not enough chest. But I was pretty, and anyone who said that 

I wasn't would be lying. My hair had curled a bit as I grew older, so I was now covered in long, softly curling

 waves over my shoulders, my eyes wider-lashed, my skin smoother and ivory. I looked sweet and charming,

 like an absolute innocent. _Naïve, I thought, __Naïve and sweet as anything._

_Mithros__. Dinner's in half an hour. I have to be all nice and perky. Joy. Rah. Rah rah sis coom ba, go. . . . . . ._

_ . . . . ME! I'm going to start skipping soon. You'd think they'd get the point eventually. Are they morons,_

_or just stupid? It can't be that hard to notice that—**oh my gosh—Kel isn't exactly ma'amselle **_

_light and airy and fluffy. Perhaps she has problems of her own? **Never.**_

_But then again, perhaps that would not be a good idea. They've never seen me anything other than_

_ happy. Hell, I don't think they've ever even seen me, the way I really am. That's probably good, _

_though. I think I prefer my life **outside of a mental ward, thank you ****very much.**_

_I have never been sweet, never been charming, never been happy. Surprised? I've always been a good liar, and I've_

_ always had a habit of holding conversations with myself in my head. Schizophrenic? No, that's hearing voices._

_ Multiple personality, perhaps. Something's wrong with that, I can tell you. Fifteen year old girls do not do that,_

_ even if they are girls like me._

_Girls like me?. . . . . what sort of a girl was I?_

I washed my face and wondered just when it had all started. _When had I stopped being the bright girl I once was?  It was a_

_ long time ago, starting in the __Yamani__Islands__, maybe, I thought__, when I'd been the hulking, monstrous foreigner. Ouch._

_That **had hurt. I'm a little sensitive about my height, at least, part of the time. I'm five foot eleven, taller than a lot of the ****boys**_

**_for heaven's sake. But it couldn't have been that. That didn't hurt me until later, until now. Then in a flash, I knew._**

_. . . . . . . . .I was at Mindelan again, listening to my sisters and sisters-in-law discussing my potential beauty. None,_

_ they said, none at all, best if we can get rid of her now, a knight might actually be a good option, who knows, she _

_might become a hero, and she'll know the knights well, get us husbands? possibly herself one, too, and I recalled crying_

_ later that night, not because I wanted to be a lady, but because I was ten years old, ten years old for Mithros sake!,_

_ okay, and when you're ten, you want everyone's approval and love and caring, and besides, I wanted desperately to_

_ someday be pretty. . . . . . . . . _

_ _

_. . . . . . . . . .I listened to Joren and Garvey and Vinson, idiots, all of them, cracking jokes about me and my "friends." _

_Mean ones, not true ones, not at all. It was funny, how no one could see how I was using them, no one at all, sometimes,_

_ I thought, not even myself. It was easy to relax, to pretend I was close to them. But I couldn't let that happen, couldn't_

_ let them get close, I couldn't, I couldn't. I couldn't. . . . . . . _

_. . . . . . . . . . .**Go home, they said. ****Not proper, they said. ****Unladylike. Like I**** cared about unladylike. But slowly, surely**_

_, it was being burned into my brain, and I couldn't get it out. No, can't get it out, and I'm trying, oh Goddess, _

_I **swear, I'm trying. . . . . . . . . **_

_. . . . . . . . . .I'm lost in my own mind, and I can't get out, a maze, a horrifying, endless, terrifying maze, and I'm trapped,_

_ I'm  trapped, I'm trapped. I can't get out of the maze, can't get out of the maze, can't get out of the maze, _

_can't get out. Trapped. . . . . . . . _

_There must be something wrong with me, I thought, grimacing into the mirror. __I shouldn't be this insecure. I'm_

_ the Yamani Lump, remember? Mademoiselle What-happens-happens-there's-no-use-crying-about-it-tough- girl._

_ Well I'm not, I guess. I don't **think I am, anyway. But if I'm ****not, then. . . . who am I?**_

_Dinner, I thought, tiredly, drooping forward. My bones ached. I felt old, old beyond my years, older _

than I wanted to be. _Neal and Cleon and Faleron and Owen. . . Merric and Seaver. . . Roald. . . . . . _

_How'm__ I supposed to be all **cheerful and everything?**_

_Oh yes, cheerful, same as I always am._

"Joy," I whispered aloud, gazing at myself in the mirror for a brief moment, a sardonic expression on my face.

 "Yet **another opportunity for me to practice my lying skills. Wonderful."**

I got dressed quickly in a pale blue dress and walked out of the door, changing everything about me from the girl who'd 

spoke with herself in the mirror to the Keladry of Mindelan that everyone knew. From the dark person I was inside to the

light one I pretended to be. And yes, I have a taste of irony: I incorporated a little skip into my walk.

"Hey, Kel!" Cleon called blushing slightly. _That boy has the **worst crush on me. It's really pathetic. He should get over it,**_

_ you know, fall for a real girl. Lady Delka? She's a possibility. A simpering **imbecile, but the sort of girl that Cleon might **_

_like. . . . . and if I set her up with him, guess who's out of my hair?. . . . hmm, **marvelous idea, Kel, must congratulate myself. . . . **_

"Over here!"

I grinned at him, laughing in a rather breathless voice. "Hey, world!  What's happened since I left you last? Blown anything up yet?

 Killed the Stump? Neal, anymore **love letters?" Neal blushed. "****Argh****!" I said, using my phrase for—ooh, c'mon, tell. Very easy to use. **

Just roll your tongue a bit when you say it, and look at the person flirtatiously. 

I sat down next to Merric, smiled at him, he blushed—_what is up with these guys and blushing? Seriously.—and accepted a platter _

of rice from Owen. 

"Thanks," I said, and we began to chat in earnest. 

I wouldn't know until later, not until much later, but Joren of Stone Mountain had watched me almost cry, through the window 

behind my room. He was watching me that night, that night when I was as charming as ever if not more. I overdo it, whenever

 I feel worst.

** And he knew.**

  
  
 

  
_Caught in the Act  
  
_

  
"Adalia!" I called, rushing to greet my sisters in the new, fashionable, Carthaki manner: a kiss on both cheeks. "Oranie!

 I adore your earrings, Addie. **Marvelous. Wherever did you get them? And Oranie, that gown. . . . . ooh! I want to steal **

it from you **right now. Well?"  
  
**

  
I smiled at them, showing the precise amount of pearly white teeth necessary to seem as sweet as possible. I hadn't seen anyone

 particularly annoying since Wednesday, when I'd gotten into a bit of a wrestling match with Joren of Stone Mountain—ended with 

me winning, but he'd pinned me a couple times—so  I was in a reasonably good mood, at least for me: rather more realism in 

my lying. I had not seen my two sisters since I was nine years old, as they prepared to go to the convent, and I was sure that they

 were startled by the young lady, if soon to be lady knight, that they met.  
  


  
"**Keladry!" one of my sisters squealed. "I haven't seen you in ****ages. You're so ****pretty now! So tell me, how's all this been treating you?" **

Oranie asked. _Oh, yeah, **that's why I hadn't liked her. She would ****never shut up. Remember, Kel darling?  Never ****ever.  
  
**_

  
Adalia laughed. She'd been the mean one, the rather snake-like one, and the less pretty one, although more flirtatious, but it looked

like she'd grown up, _just a little. "Probably perfectly, right, Kel? I'd imagine so. You **always were ****such a tomboy." **__Okay, so she definitely _

_hasn't. I lied.   
  
_

  
"Oh, it's been marvelous. Really," I said lightly. "It's actually fun, although perhaps I have an odd sense of high jinx." I giggled. It was 

disgusting. "It's not as if we are allowed to do much of **anything, after all, so I don't exactly have a basis for comparison. You ****did**

 hear that Lord Raoul, of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, is my knightmaster, correct? Isn't that **fabulous?"  
  
**

  
"Of course! And it's your first midwinter back, isn't it?" Oranie asked. "Show us around," she ordered. "Or better yet, find 

a handsome young man to show us around. I wouldn't suppose you'd happen to have any spare ones?"  
  


  
"Like she'd have any to **spare," Adalia laughed, nastily. " You always had ****all your boys around, Keladry, ****never were **

willing to share, even when you were little. I **knew you'd be a heartbreaker. Looks like I'm right." _Okay, so I was wrong_**

_ on that count, too. She wasn't being evil. Well, not thoroughly.   
  
_

  
"I'm **shocked, Addie, that you'd even ****think of such a thing, and I'm truly hurt, Ranie. You don't want my company? Handsome **

young men, handsome young men, handsome young men. . . . geez, got to get more handsome young men around here, oh, wait! There's one.

 Zakar!" I called to a handsome young man, Zakaria of North Ridge Bay, a handsome, charming court parasite who I'd cultivated a working

 deal with. "Get over here! Would you and your friends care to show my sisters about? Adalia and Oranie of Mindelan, Zakaria of North Ridge Bay."  
  


  
Zakar grinned, ever the charmer, and bowed, kissing Adalia's hand. Another young man smiled at Oranie and introduced

himself. They went bounding off, laughing and giggling, already friends. There are some pluses to loaning

 money every once in a while. I'd helped Zakar bail himself out of prison once, when he'd been drunk.

 He was just a typical court dandy, not much more, but with a little more charm and a little less cash.  
  


  
**_No more sisters__! Hurrah! Hurrah! They've gotten even _****more feather- brained since I last saw them, if that's ****possible,**

_ although some of the things that they said were rather clever. Maximum compliment. That's why I would **sooo not**_

_ have fit in in convent school. Beauty and charm required. Intelligence, not necessary.  
  
_

  
Free! I exultated to myself. I was in one of my better moods that day, although it may have been a 

result of the sugar I'd had that morning. _I'm going to avoid the world, and sit down, with a nice, fluffy_

_ book. I wonder where that romance novel Lalasa was talking about was? I think she's trying to _

_improve my sense of color. She left it with me, I'm sure, but where-ouch! What the f--!  
  
_

  
Joren of Stone Mountain and I tumbled to the stone floor. "**Look where the hell you're going!" I snapped,**

 realizing after I'd spoken that I'd ran into him. _Well, too late now. Not my fault.  "Are you always this graceful, _

or was your nose just too high up for you to notice anything?"  
  


  
Joren sneered. "Well, well, well. Hasn't the little girl grown up. So sweet. She finally learned how 

to talk to people without Lump-ing. I'm touched, sweetheart, that I am the first to know."  
  


  
I smirked at him. This boy-_man, man, Joren definitely is  a man, an annoying, beautiful, demon_

_ from Hell, but still, a man-was so difficult to ruffle. "Aren't we feeling clever today. I'm afraid I _

simply must dash, though, darling. I have an appointment with my manicurist. By the way, sweetie, 

I **love your hair. Where do you get it cut? It's so my sisters. Very feminine. I congratulate you."  
  
**

  
Joren flushed, very slightly, furious. "I **AM NOT GAY!" he hissed, glaring at me. I smiled.  
  
**

  
"That's. . . . **.  nice. . . . .  to know, Stone Mountain. If you were, many poor, suffering ladies would be. . .  **

sobbing. . . . right now. I must depart, my love, dreadfully sorry. Our conversation was thrilling. We must do 

this some other time," I replied.  
  


  
"Yes," a deep voice replied. "Away from here."  
  


  
I couldn't see him; my back was to him. **Wyldon, Joren mouthed. I glowered at him, and used my index finger to draw a**

 line across my throat. He choked from laughter, pretending to cough.  
  


  
_The Stump. Just fabulous. Great. Wondrous, and all that. What do I get to do THIS time, I wonder. _

_Seriously, who said that the training master could punish squires? I need to figure out who did it._

_If they're alive, they'll die, and if they aren't. . . . . heh heh heh. Yay. Just yay.  
  
_

  
"This is not the sort of behavior I expect from the two of you," Lord Wyldon intoned in a monotone.

 _Another bloody lecture. Joren shot a quick glance at me, wrinkled his nose, and then stood to straight attention at Wyldon._

I was convulsing with laughter. The training master gave me a disapproving look. _  
  
_

  
"I have seen this from the two of you much too often. It is improper behavior for two squires, emissaries of His 

Majesty; It will stop now. In the crown room, tonight, at half past eight. His Majesty, Numair Salmalin, and I wish

 to discuss something with you. I doubt it will be to your liking, but it must be done."

  
_And The Other Hand Drops  
  
  
  
_

  
At half-past eight the next night I didn't show. I was in my room, in my night gown, painting my nails the 

color of red wine and thinking about how much I hated the entire world. At about 9:45 Lord Wyldon 

appeared in my room, and frowning with gross displeasure, dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the 

crown room. A few heads did pop out of the doors, and Wyldon gave them the death-glare. Not literally,

 but I do believe that dignity is a highly overrated virtue, and did not bother to hide my displeasure.  
  


  
"Why, hello, Keladry," Numair Salmalin said pleasantly, after I'd almost managed to connect my fist with 

Joren's jaw after he made a smart-assed remark about my pajamas, and my figure within, "how are you today?"  
  


  
"Wish I could say I was wonderful, sir," I said mock-wistfully, "but sadly I'm not. I suppose that's how

 life is, though. Win some, lose some. And you?"  
  


  
Joren made this little cough that sounded like –cough--"flirt"—cough—but I ignored him, deciding instead to focus on King 

Jonathan III. Wyldon was a lost cause, and I already had Numair won over to my side. I liked Daine, and he knew that, and by

extension, liked me.  
  


  
"Your majesty," I began diplomatically, "It is true, we have agreed, that- "and Joren cut in.  
  


  
"Keladry and I need to learn how to work out our differences," Joren interrupted blandly. "I apologize 

to my King, for my conduct,  milord, for the same, and to Mindelan, for existing, as that seems to bother her, but I do not see why-"  
  


  
"Oh, **shut up, you little-" I snapped, forgetting where we were.  
  
**

  
"Why don't **you? You are such an ****idiot, Mindelan, you just wreaked whatever bloody chance we ****had **

of getting out of this thing-"  
  


**  
"I WREAKED IT? What about ****you, with that little "I apologize to Mindelan for existing" comment? ****Hello?**

 Earth to **Joren. Joren, come in. Come ****in, Joren."   
  
**

  
"**Silence," his majesty said commandingly, and surprisingly enough, considering our current track record, **

Joren and I actually stopped bickering long enough to turn and give the glare of death at him.  
  


  
"**WHAT?" we said belligerently at the same time, before we turned to glower at each other. I don't like talking **

at the same time he does. It's kind of scary.  
  


  
"I see your problem," Numair said sympathetically to the Stump. "They must be an awful handful."  
  


  
"Handful **nothing!" Wyldon replied. "I have had to listen to their petty little arguments for forever. I don't**

 want to hear another bloody **thing out of them!"  
  
**

_  
Yay. Now my training master has revealed his hatred for me. Time to start jumping up and down, Mindelan._

_Hardly surprising. If he didn't by now, well, we've just proved that he isn't human.  
  
_

  
"Sir, calm down. So we don't like each other," I informed him, "it's not the end of the world."  
  


  
He glared at me, and growled, "It's **gonna be."  
  
**

  
"Terrifying," Joren said, sotto voce, to me. Lord Wyldon heard him.  
  


  
"**Enough."  
  
**

  
"Agreed," replied King Jon, who I was starting to regard as an absolute push-over. Thayet was kinda

a ditz, but at least she had her own opinions. He didn't have any.   
  


  
Numair nodded. "Perhaps."  
  


  
"Well? Will you?" the Stump inquired.  
  


  
He sighed. "I didn't want to, and I still don't. Daine likes Keladry, and finds Stone Mountain to be a 

charming, if reckless young man. I do suppose that we have no choice, though."  
  


  
"Shut up and get on with it," Joren snapped. "Some people enjoy that pleasant thing known as sleep."  
  


  
"Not that I don't think killing him **might be the best way to go," confided Numair in a stage whisper.**

  
I smiled at him. _Way to go, Nummie!_

  
"Decided," Jonathan said in a stout tone, "we're sending them off to Scanra."

Thank yous to:

Thank yous to: Larzdinn: thanx!!! Btw, I love your name.

 Daydreamer: thaz cool, happens with me sometimes, too. That's why I shoved it in.

 Nice Day: breathe!!!!!!! In and out, in and out. Meditate. Clear your mind of thoughts.

 Thanx, don't worry, I will. 

Keita: !(! 

DeadlyBlackRose: yay! I'm a sucker for people saying that they luv my stuff. 

The Dark Goddess: Thank u! 2 reviews from u! (smiles benevolently as she starts a 

religion for people who review more than once (though 1 timers are good as well)

The Blind Assassin: thank you. I read your story & it's really good.

 Just ta let ya know. 

Siren Porter: read yours too. It's interesting how u did a double romance. Thanx! 

Camisole:I'll review urs. Actually, yeah, I was thinking that kel and joren 

aren't likely to get all fluffy. Romantic, yes, but oh- my-god-I-love-u-so-much no. thank you! 

Free2bMe: Thank ya! &that's it.

Faithful and Jishoshojo!!!! You two are the best!!!!! This is the first fan fic I ever did on this, 

and I thought that I wasn't going to get any reviews at all. I'm so glad y'all like it, and yes, 

Faithful, there will be Joren in it. I wonder if I should put that in my summary, considering 

how many people want to marry the dude.

BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Adjusting la tale fairie! Haha! I'm bored, can u tell? 

theahri


	2. Travels to Scanra

  
  
And now for my **disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce. Surprise!! I'm just a girl from Houston, who by the**

 way turns thirteen on October 18, 2002. Happy birthday to me! Okay, here we go. **Disclaimer: Am not **

Tamora Pierce. Shocker. **Disclaimer: Am not Tamora Pierce. Or at least, wasn't the last time I checked.  
  
**

_Part Two_

_Scanra__?___

"**Scanra," Joren repeated, for perhaps the tenth time in the past hour, as he paced along the corridor, boot heels **

sharply clicking the stone floor, after we had been kicked out of the room for attempting to assassinate His Majesty, 

via blunt trauma to the head. _All right, all right: blunt trauma to some other more sensitive areas too. I'm sorry. No, I'm_

_ not. It was bloody funny.  "Scanra."  
  
_

  
I was leaning against the wall, mad as hell, an angry, slightly sultry look on my face.  
  


  
"Yes, Joren, my one and only true darling," I replied, smiling rather brittly. "They're sending us to Scanra. **AND WILL**

** YOU GET IN IT YOUR BLOODY HEAD AND SHUT THE HELL UP ABOUT IT!"  
  
**

  
He looked at me disdainfully. "What's up with **you, Mindelan? I ****was right. Mithros, I thought I was joking! God, you ****do **

have a problem with my existance."  
  


  
"Nah, I just have a problem with the fact that you are an absolute bastard." I smiled. "Nothing much. And by the way, 

**just**** in case you haven't noticed, it appears that we are to be ****stuck. Together. In ****Scanra. Imagine how much fun ****that's**

 going to be, just you and me, one on one-**all alone, in the land of rocks and trees, and maybe a person or two scattered **

here and there. Wonderful. Can you spell '**hell'? I must have done something particularly nasty in a previous life time. Really**

 nasty. I wonder who I killed…….."  
  


  
"Will you **shut up about your stupid reincarnation theory!" Joren snapped. "That's all you friggin' talk about! Even the Yamani**

 don't talk about it as much as you do! And it's their stupid religion! Shut up and listen to yourself sometime!"  
  


  
I glowered at him, and made a rather rude gesture. I liked my 'stupid reincarnation theory.' I fake-smiled, and sweetly said,

 "Love to chat, sweetie,but I have to dash. Packing and all. Ta ta." I waved as walked off, watching him glare. I smiled inwardly

 at his expression.  
  


  
_Loser, I thought. __Cute when he's angry, but Goddess does that guy have problems. Honestly. I mean, talk about an inferiority complex!_

_ Oh Mithros, I am **screwed. The next year with **__Stone Mountain__ in Scanra.__ Bah. I'm going to go mad.  
  
_

  
                                                                                                          _Flashback  
  
_

  
"After all, you have to see why we're doing this," King Jonathan droned on in a compassionate and caring tone; the tone he 

was famous for. _This guy is such a suck up. Such a friggin' suck up.  I was tempted to punch him in the throat, just to destroy _

his vocal cords. _That would be interesting…"You two are possibly our two most talented squires, and will be a great resource to_

 Tortall. But **COOPERATION, think about that. Cooperating. The thing you do worst is what we need most now, especially with**

 the situation up in Scanra."  
  
  


  
  
"And it won't be all **that bad," Numair said sympathetically, the good cop. _Numair's__ good cop, Wyldon's bad cop, what's King Jon the_**

_ Annoying? Droning cop? Gosh. "We **do have a task for you, and you'll find it rather interesting, it's just that….well, we can't have **_

you in Tortall. Not right now—at least. You two need to learn responsibility, and you both lack it. You need experience, and we 

can't give it to you here, it must be somewhere else. It'll only be a year! Joren, you'll be back in time for your Ordeal; Kel, you'll be

 sixteen. Sweet sixteen, think about that! It's a learning experience."  
  


  
_Yeah. Right. SUCH a learning experience. I am SO looking forward to it.  
  
_

  
"So what are you making us do?" Joren asked bluntly. "It better be interesting, because if I am stuck in Scanra, for a year, with 

her, I am going to go **insane. Have any of you actually been in the same room with her longer than five minutes?"  
  
**

  
"Shut up, Stone Mountain," I replied, and turned to look at the men, finished with my miniscule examination of my cuticles. "Yeah.

 What beloved chore are we stuck with, o wise and evil ones?" They glared at me; I raised my eyebrows. _Losers.__  
  
_

  
Wyldon spoke up from the shadows in which he stood. "We want you to assasinate their Warlord."  
  


  
  
  
                                                                                                              _Present  
  
  
  
  
_

  
_  
So here I am, preparing to assassinate the Warlord, what's his name, Maggur? Maggot? Something screwy like that. Damn. Dammit all_

_ to hell! And I have to do it with Joren, too. Oh agony.  
  
_

  
I flung myself onto my bed, aware that I would have to pack in the morning. They hadn't exactly given us much time to get ready.

 _Oh well. Not like I was planning on saying good bye to anyone. I miss Lalasa. She is incredibly bubbly, incredibly peppy, and incredibly_

_annoying__, but I need that at the moment, and besides, I don't think I like doing that shoving into bags all by myself.  
  
_

  
  
  
_This is possibly going to be the worst experience of my entire life.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_

  
  
  
  
   
  
  
_My New Knightmaster   
  
  
  
_

  
  
  
_….And I was right.  
  
_

  
_This is possibly the worst excuse for a voyage out of Tortall that I have ever experienced, and trust me, I have experienced quite a few_

_ lousy 'trips.' Perhaps I am being too hard on everyone. I mean, what's not to like?  
  
_

  
_I'm with Joren of __Stone Mountain__, whom everyone knows I just ADORE, I'm in Scanra, freezing my butt off with the marvelous new_

_ Carthaki healing treatment, I'm free from the vile and slave-driving clutches of Lord Raoul: how could I dislike any of it? I am obviously_

_ such an ungrateful spoiled brat of a young, improper, woman. My poor parents tried their hardest; alas, they failed. Miserably.  
  
_

  
I leaned a little closer to the fire, wrapped in an ragged blanket, which had been originally been fuzzy, back near Corus. It was 

anything but at the current moment, and I wanted some coffee. _Hot. Preferably a mocha latte. With extra cream. And sugar. Lots of_

_ sugar.  
  
_

  
"**Coffee." I moaned, melodramatic as hell, knowing perfectly well that Joren found that very annoying. Then again, he has a **

problem with everything I do, from the way I brush my hair to the way I talk, so dramatics are perfectly natural. All right, all right,

 and very, very, fun. "Bring me coffee! I begin to hallucinate….dragons…..coffee…..palace……the Stump flirting with Garvey…..pain……

agony……the horror, the hor-"  
  


  
Joren promptly attempted to strangle me. 

"Oww! What the **f—"**

"Shut up! Oh Mithros! Do I have to **kill you to shut you up? You are being so ****ANNOYING!" He shouted the last part.  
  
**

  
I glanced over at him quizzically. "You do need professional help. Anger control management. Ever heard of it?"  
  


  
Joren made a noise that might have been a snarl. I smiled back at him. _I might hate him, but baiting him is just too much fun to_

_ quit. I wonder what I'd wind up doing without him. He still hasn't realized that it is just a game, though. I think that's why he always_

_ gets so angry, so quickly.  
  
_

  
"We're almost in Scanra," he said in that blunt fashion of his, changing the subject completely. "I'm **guessing you didn't listen to **

the briefing?"  
  


  
"Nah," I said in a sudden burst of honesty. "Mind numbing. Always is. Gave up after about three seconds."  
  


  
"Okay, I guess I get to talk, then. We're going to kill the stupid Warlord, you know that though, right? Yeah, that's cool. Anyway, 

we're about a day from the capital of Scanra, that's where we're going, to the palace, so, since they **DID decide that I was your **

temporary knight master, cuz I'm older-"  
  


  
"**EXCUSE ME???? I do ****NOT recall that part, Stone Mountain, and let me tell you-"  
  
**

  
He snorted, a most un-Joren like gesture, if I may say so myself, even if I am little acquainted with him. "Of course not, Mindelan.

After you **left. They told me that since I was older and that it is traditional for squires to have knight masters, then the knight master**

 would be...me. That means I can make you do **anything I want. Isn't life ****wonderful?"  
  
**

  
I glared at him. "Go to hell."

"Lovely sentiment, Mindelan," Joren drawled.

"If you so much as **ATTEMPT making me do ****ANYTHING, anything at all, Stone Mountain, I ****swear that I am going to…."  
  
**

  
Joren smiled sweetly. I had a feeling he was not intimidated.

  
  
 

  
  
  
   
  
_Discussions on a More Libidinous Note  
  
  
  
_

  
_Joren__ is such a bastard.  
  
  
_

  
  
_That is possibly the simplest explanation for his recent actions. I swear. He makes no sense **AT ALL, and remember: you're talking**_

_ to the girl who practically lives in a nuthouse. I.E. that marvelous company with Lord Raoul, gigantic genial genuine psycho. Okay,_

_ my alliteration was off. Who gives.  
  
  
_

  
  
_About eighty percent of the time Joren acts normal, meaning nasty and sarcastic and cynical, and that I'm used to. I would almost _

_like__ him, just cuz we've been enemies so long, I feel like I know him very well. That came out wrong. Oh well. It's the other twenty_

_ percent of the time though, that's odd. It's like he doesn't know I'm there, doesn't know that I exist except as an annoyance. It's like_

_ he's off in space. Creepy.  
  
  
_

  
  
_I suppose that this makes no sense, at all, because Joren and I hate each other, right? And we do. Always have. Always will.  
  
  
_

  
  
_It's just that I'm used to his whole world revolving around me. And mine around him. That's how our enemy-ship-thingy goes, right?_

_ We hate each other, but can't stand being far from each other, yeah? That's the thing, y'know. Joren's just so …I dunno…. interesting,_

_ especially in comparison to everyone else. It's complicated. A little too complicated.  
  
_

  
  
  
"The capital," Joren said softly and intensely, interrupting my thoughts. "Here we are. Joy. So far from Tortall, and it just **HAD **

to be with you, Mindelan. Just had to be."  
  
  


  
  
"As if **I like it," I retorted. "You aren't exactly the most fabulous traveling companion yourself and-"  
  
  
**

  
  
Joren looked at me oddly, a little too long. It was if he was saying with his eyes: oh my god. You're still on **that? "Chill."  
  
  
**

  
  
I glared at him. "Whatever."  
  


  
"That's right," Joren lazily replied. "Keep it up. Apathy is the way to go. So many things that they don't teach you in school."  
  
  


  
  
I tried to think of a good snap-back, but my mind was blank, so I had to fall upon the all but incoherent statement: "Oh, and 

by the way, just to make things clear, I read that **stupid list of instructions that the trio of terror gave us? Just to let you know,**

 I am **NOT going along with that."  
  
  
**

  
  
"Yes, you are," Joren said mildly. His eyes narrowed as he seemed to be looking at me with puzzlement. I felt like I was under a

microscope. _Would he stop acting so detached!!!!!!!! "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, y'know, but I'm not complaining. I have_

 to pretend too, for Mithros' sake. That's gotta be worse than your assignment. I mean, **VERY bad judgment on my part."  
  
  
**

  
  
"**EXCUSE ME! Do ****NOT insult my looks, Stone Mountain. I may not be petite-"  
  
**

  
"-Oh, yeah-"  
  


  
"-**OR tiny-"  
  
**

  
"-Definitely not-"  
  


  
"**OR blonde-"  
  
**

  
"-Unless you dyed it-"  
  


  
"But at least I don't act like such a bastard. They'll wonder how I wound up with you, sweetheart, not the other way around. 

Remember: **I'M the one that everyone thinks is charming. You're the handsome jerk. Or do you not remember that little ****'incident'**

 with Lady Skada?"  
  
  
  


  
Joren reddened. I had hit a nerve. "That was not my fault, you idiot!" he shouted. "She was acting like such a bitch, I **HAD to**

get away from her, okay? I'm sorry about the whole--"  
  


  
  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Tell it to the magistrate. I could hear you in **MY rooms, yelling. Or the noodle incident. How about ****that**

 one?"  
  


  
  


  
  
He glowered at me. "I was but a c**hild then. Pouring noodles down the backs of lady's dresses seemed like such innocent fun**

at the time."  
  
  


  
  
"Yeah, whatever," I said.  
  
  


  
  
"Oh come on," Joren replied, smiling oddly at me, once more. That smile was creeping me out. I had the feeling of being 

under a microscope again, the bug with a scientist leaning over, and examining it. "There could be worse things than 

pretending to be my wife, I'm sure."  
  


  
I smiled, ready with one last hit before we rode into the capital. "Of course, Joren. I could actually be it."

Okay, to my beloved reviewers, who should be aware that I am creating a religion to honor them right now, here are my thank 

yous:  
  
The Dark Goddess: I'm so glad you like it!!!!!! I know K&J are OOC, it's just I can't write Joren the way Tamora Pierce can, and

 if Kel was normal my story would be totally weird. I'll right, all right. I'll review after I'm done typing this up. K? 

Lovely Little Muse: thank you! I'm in love with Joren too. Why did the author have to kill him? He was sooooo cool. Maybe Numair

 can bring him back to life in the next quartet, preferably one in which Kel actually has a love life. Who knows? 

( Anonymous: okay. Cool. Danka schurne, in my pathetic, mispelled German that I'm mangling even as I think, because I stole it 

from my mom, who other than the time we stopped in Germany while going to South Africa, hasn't spoken it in thirty years. 

Siren Porter: thank you!! I'm running out of creative ways to say it! But thanx soo much. 

Jishoshojo: do u speak Japanese, ever lived in Japan, or are u just an anime freak? Cuz I luv your name. Well, the problem is, I 

always have to make something funny, because whenever I read angst fics and all they ever do is: oh my gosh I want to die I'm

 anorexic I'm on drugs I'm just like: get over yourself. Besides, the most depressed person I know is also the most hyper. Have to

 model from real life, yknow (

 Keita: I'm trying to hurry, trust me!!!!! It's just field hockey games, and homework, and dance classes, and the fact that my brother

 never gets off the internet unless his life depends upon it or I make mom kick him off, I'm kinda stuck.

 Anonymous: thanx!! I liked Cleon too, it's just that I think that in the books he's sorta a spineless wimp not to go off and marry 

her. In case u can't tell, I read Lady Knight recently, and she has no discernable love life, while with Alanna it was like: slow down!! 

Lady Arabian Night: thank you! Don't worry, I'm writing it right now!!! That girl: thank you!!!!! I'm so glad you like Joren. He's my

 favorite. *embraces her collection of stuffed male blond dolls, all of whom she has named Joren, except for the one she has named 

Draco* I'm just writing Joren and Kel in a way I find amusing. It's sorta like I'm trying to argue with myself on a computer screen. 

The Dark Lady Adrienne: thank you! I'm so glad you like my fic! Btw, I loved yours. It was one of the ones that addicted me to Joren.

 Before I went on FF.net, I was in love with Neal. But now I have seen the light. I don't like Jon too much either, but I'm weird. I didn't

 like George, either. Okay? To set the record straight I WANTED ALANNA WITH LIAM. Maybe I'll write another fic about that.

 Lady Arwen Evenstar: thank you. Btw, I love your name. From Lord of the Rings, right? 

Cami of Queenscove: well, maybe.. *does a naughty little grin* But don't you think it must have been sooo annoying to have those two

 as your students when they were teenagers? I mean, come on. I thought, until I read Squire, that Joren was going to wind up with her. 

Why did you have to kill him? Why???????

 Darcel: Aye aye general person! To be started immediately. Thank you! 

Thank yous: The Dark Goddess: I'm sorry!!!! It's not my fault. I get dragged away from the computer just when my muse starts flowing,

 and I can't do anything about it. I was planning to update on Oct. 19, but I never got around to it. Yes, I know the need for the j/k fix. 

Most of the fics I regularly check out have evil blonde guys. It's hilarious. 

The Dark Lady Adrienne: I know, isn't it? The only thing better than fictional love hate relationships is real life ones. And remind me, if you 

do review again, which you certainly will, right?..to review your story. I might have done an anonymous review, but I'm not sure, and 

that would have been ten million years ago. And with Liam.ignore the fact that she wrote bad romances for him, and just focus on the

 character. Or maybe she should have married Raoul. I never liked Buri too much anyway. 

The Lady Maharet of Raleigh: thank you sooooooo much!!! I always get soooo happy when people tell me they like my fics. Perhaps it's 

because my stupid english teachers throughout my life have always given me bad grades. For not being 'coherent' enough. Ugh. 

Keita: well, I'm writing this whole story for my own personal amusement, so perhaps.meaning, most likely, yes. 

Cytosine: thank you! I'm so glad you think it's cool. (strikes up her theme music really really loud) by the way, I found your Owen, the 

serial killer who says jolly, to be hilarious. Keep up the nuthouse stories! And the summer camp ones. They're fab! 

Cami of Queenscove: tell me about it. That was Joren attempting to flirt. He's kinda bad at it, but he sorta does in this chapter, cuz I 

WANT THEM TO GET INTO THEIR FRIGGIN' "RELATIONSHIP" ALREADY. Don't Latin and Greek SUCK. I'm taking Latin at school. GO figure. 

Anonymous: thanks!! I love reviewers, review, and I'll even post you on my last chapter, which will include detailed thankyous to every

 one who reviewed, but I NEED A NAME! 

Wendy: don't worry. I NEVER quit stories unless they have 0 reviews, in which case I take them down to do some work on them. 

Siren Porter: I'm TRYING to up the whole tension between them. The whole authority-figure thing might change the chemistry a bit. Glad 

u found it funny. 

Zenin, you reviewed SOOOOO much!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Speaking of Mr. Peters, you so must have met my fifth grade

 teacher. She was a, shall we say, verah ol fashion southe'n lady, an' we were all goin' to become lahk that we grew up. My dialect is

 terrible; she was one of the few people I knew with an actual accent. Ha. Ha. Like I said, this story is all for my own personal amusement,

 and that AMUSED me, to put it lightly. I'm not gonna make him mushy! The worst I'll do is suggestive flirting, as far as mushiness goes, 

and that's not the same thing. No one who has reviewed wants fluff, and besides, I think fluff sounds SOOOOO stupid. 

Charlotte: That's the thing!!!!!!! They're not so short, they just look like that. They're like four pages long! 

Thank yous: Siren Porter: I know. imagine.and it must be so boring up north.whatever are they going to do? 

PurpleSakura: Purple cherry blossoms. Interesting. I know, it was kind of stupid, but just in case anyone hasn't figured out by now, 

this is sorta angst/romance/humor, and Kel has an attitude problem. I'm so glad u think its.interesting. 

Lady Arwen Evenstar: thank u very much!

 Lady Arabian Knight: nooooooooooooooo! I can't have them kill each other! I think making out with corpses is just a little too gross

 for me to write. I couldn't remember the dude's name, so I figured I might as well make a joke out of it.

 Cami of Queenscove: no, I'll try to update often, but it might take a while. They'll probably just start because they're bored, and move

 on from there. The broom closet idea might actually be good: while spying in Scanra, they get locked in a broom closet. Nice. I might 

actually use that. 

Cleantha: thank you! 

(MagixPawn: I'm glad u think its funny. People always love my sense of humor or think I'm psycho. 

he Dark Goddess: that is weird. I wonder. I'm sorry I stole ur idea! It wasn't intentional! I just needed something for them to do, because, 

u know, they ARE good, just annoying little brats. They have to do something important.

  
  
  



	3. So Hell Begins

Disclaimer: I'm not Tamora Pierce. Deal with it, and take your little stalker-y minds away from here. Disclaimer: Try though I might, I'm still not Tamora Pierce. Sob for me, dahling. Disclaimer: Am not, have never been, never will be, Tamora Pierce so help me god.  
  
  
  


  


__

Part Three

  
  
  
  
  
  
_Ryer Melka's Take   
  
_

  
  
Joren was in one of his moods again, the fifth time in the past fortnight. He wasn't talking anymore; in fact, the most complicated thing that he had said so far that day was something muttered incomprehensible: "shut up," it sounded like, and, "coffee." It was getting worse. He seemed to be off in his own little dream world more and more these days, and I often felt like I couldn't get through to him.  


  
_And, of course, I can't unless he wants me to. Rule numero uno about interfering in other people's lives: stay out. Not that anyone ever follows them (it would take the fun out of life) but still. . . . We all have private demons of our own; it is our choice whether to set them out in the open or conceal them under fresh smelling white paint. Myself, I practically have bought out the white paint business. I don't like people examining me too closely, being distant helped. If no one could see behind your smiles, then you were free to glory in your own darkness, whatever it may be.  
_

  
I felt lonely.  


  
_Perhaps this is the wrong time to try and claim a tie of friendship. Or, not quite that, even, but … We are the same person, deep inside. I hate him. I know him. It is screwed up. It wasn't supposed to be like this.  
_

  
I sighed softly, like breathing, and tried one more time to get Joren back into the real world. "Hello in there? You alive?" I called as I waved my hand in front of his face. He haphazardly beat my hand away, almost playfully.  


  
"Get out of my face," he said then, in a polite tone. "**Please**. I'm trying to think."  


  
I glared at him, exasperated, and he ignored me. _Grr._ I sat, sulking, against the wooden wall of a rotting alley way. I gazed about, at last taking my first real in- depth examination of the capital city of Scanra.  


  
It was not a beautiful city, not one that artists would flock to, like Carthak, or even one that merchants would, like Corus. I could hardly see how anyone would want to come here; it was seedy as hell, the smell of beer everywhere, street people, drunks, thieves, a strong scent of opium everywhere, but it held a certain fascination for me. 

__

Why would anyone want to live in a place like this? **WHO** would want to live in a place like this. What sort of a **person **would live in a place like this? And then the thought struck me: _these people are just like me, just like me as well._

I looked around, and saw the city for what it was, a slum. A city without a hope, without a future, damned to an eternity of the purgatory it lay in. All around, the people knew that. And yet they keep going on with their lives, meaningless as they may be.

__

What a stupid world.

  
"Lovely," I sighed wistfully, trying to cover up my thoughts, which I was sure were bright and open upon my face. "**Just** the place to spend my vaction at."  


  
Joren gave me an odd look, not the same one he had been giving me recently, for once a different one, and then realized that it was a joke and laughed. "Tell me about it," he replied, a smile on his lips. "It's just so …. **perfect**! Honestly, darling, we might want to consider living here!"  


  
I laughed, hitting him in the ribs. He bent over in mock pain.  


  
"Oww ... oww ... the pain ... the pain…"  


  
"Shut up, Stone Mountain!" I laughed, lightly, forgetting my quasi-philosophical thoughts of earlier. "That is **MY** line! Mine, **not** yours! Don't be such a thief!"  


  
"What are you **talking** about?" he asked, irritably. _What is his problem?_ _He goes from teasing to arguing in less time than it takes me to blink._ "You cannot "own" a word. It's impossible. Freak."  


  
"Who you callin' freak?" I blasted at him, resorting to a bit of attitude that Lalasa had taught me one time, during what ended up as a girl's night in after her male companion had broken up with her, realizing that he had just totally busted my philosophical mood. _Damn, I hate that guy._ "Look in a mirror!"  


  
"Excuse me!" he thrust his head forward in a very good impression of Lady Nalia, Neal's current girlfriend, who I absolutely despised, except that he wasn't joking. _Joren has an attitude problem, I guess. C'est la vie._  


  
"You heard me, Stone Mountain!" I hissed. "You are possibly the most **DESPICABLE** excuse for a human being I've ever met! You're selfish, you have no discernable personality, you're an absolute bastard who has no concerns about anything other than yourself!"  


  
"Oh? **I'M** like that? Pay attention to yourself once in a while, Mindelan. You're the most self-conceited, self centered, **BITCHY**, person in the world You have no understanding of anything except for that which applies to you, you're as apathetic as hell, **AND** you seem to think that you're some sort of special, and that the world revolves around you. **WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU**? In case you haven't noticed, you have possibly **EVERYTHING, **maybe more, going for you, and you insist upon acting like a friggin'-"  


  
"Tortallan?" suggested a bony looking female, about five foot four, positively tiny, and about thirty five years old, laying against a wall, observing the both of us with disdain. "**THIS** is what I have to work with?"  


  
We looked at her mutely. "Oh, Goddess," she moaned. "Nothing I can do, I suppose. Come on."  
  


  
  
She held up her hand. The tattoo. This was Ryar Melka. I had heard of her. The best assassin in the Eastern Lands, tough, hard, and a mercenary at heart, though she had pledged her loyalty to King Jonathan in this case. She'd as soon slit our throats as help us, if it hadn't been for the money. I hadn't expected her to be so melodramatic, but that did not change the simple fact. We were in trouble.  


  
"Come on," she repeated impatiently. We followed her into the nearest opium den, _yay, she really does pick the greatest of meeting places, high on opium fumes, fab job, melka, _and she led us in to the darkness. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Conversation, i.e. Argument, In The Opium Den  
  
_

  
  
"No," I said flatly. I turned to face Joren, jutting out my chin. "Not happening. Not in this lifetime. No."  
  
  


  
"**Mithros**, Mindelan!" Joren whispered sharply, his hands up in some form of exasperated beseechment, up to the sky. It was a wonder no one noticed us. Then again, they were too stoned anyway. _Or else they just think we're being psychos. Either way, who gives? _"It's **not **that bad! Get a grip on yourself! Okay? It's **JUST **a job."  
  


  
  
Ryer Melka was looking at us with amusement. I had a feeling she didn't have any children. If she had any teenagers, she wouldn't be silently laughing so much. Apparently she found us to be the most hilarious thing since three hours before when two drunks had waddled in here, gotten into a fight, and one of them had broken a chair over the other's head. I was really starting to dislike this woman.  
  


  
  
"Yeah," I replied. "It's just a job. **NO**. I am **NOT** doing it. I told you. What does it take to ram that thought through your stupid head?"  
  
  


  
For once, Joren didn't take major and immediate offense. "It. Is. Just. A. Job. For. Mithros. Sake."  
  
  


  
"No, it's not!" I protested. "All right? I have no desire whatsoever to have to pretend to be a friggin' maidservant! I'm not trying to be a guard like you, cuz there are like, no women warrior people here, but **MAIDSERVANT**? No. Not happening."  
  


  
  
"Kel," said Joren exasperated. He seemed to have problems with this concept I was stating. _Wait - he called me Kel? _"You have to get into the palace **some** way, Mindelan. Would you rather be a scullery maid? If you're a maidservant all you have to do is serve meals. Come on." _Obviously the Kel is a one shot thing._  
  


  
  
"It **would** be easier," Ryer Melka ventured cautiously, playing devil's advocate. _Mithros. Do these people **know** each other ? They seem to be very in tune to each other's thoughts. _"Much easier, in fact."  
  


  
  
"But being a maid means that she can get in easier," Joren reminded me patiently. He was acting incredibly infuriating. "And that means we can get home faster, right? Home faster and out of this freezing hell hole. Come on, sweetie. Be a sport."  
  
  


  
I looked at both of them tiredly. Joren, the icily handsome bastard who happened to be my best friend / worst enemy. _Who might or might not have been flirting with me._ Ryer Melka, the assassin with the attitude.  
  


  
  
"Goddess, how did I wind up with the two of you?" I asked wearily. "Fine. I'll make you a deal."  
  


  
  
Ryer Melka smiled, Joren shrugged. "What?" he asked arrogantly confident. He smiled at me. I think my giving in boosted his ego.  
  


  
  
"I get a favor," I replied.  
  


  
  
"Well?"  


  
I smiled, a very slight, sneaky smile, if I can say so myself.  
  


  
  
"Stone Mountain. When we get back to Tortall, you have to go tell Lord Wyldon exactly what you think of him. I will prepare a script. A verbally abusive one, in fact."  


  
  
  
"No," Joren whispered, remembering the time I had gone off at Vinson, and remembering my (immense) vocabulary. "You **can't**. You wouldn't **dare**."  
  


  
  
"Oh, I would," I said lightly. I smiled. Revenge is so sweet. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
_So Hell Begins  
_

  
  
  
  
  
We began our careers shortly thereafter, in the middle of what is politely termed as 'bloody hell.' _That's commonly known as midwinter holiday, but trust me, I am going to be unable to see the holiday in any light other than horrifying after this. Except for maybe painful. Agony_. Only five days into the job and I already had a newly found respect for servants. Any one who could deal with that much pressure without going mad certainly did not need any self-conceited noble in their face.  
  
  


  
So far, in my new job, I have ruined two shirts beyond repair. I have had twelve lewd comments thrown my way by noblemen, and had to smile instead of decking them. I have had the head of the palace servants screaming in my face on four occasions, tripped and fallen on my face on two, and managed to generally humiliate myself beyond belief in front of Joren, who reminds me mercilessly about it when we talk to Ryer.  
  


  
  
_This is so not cool.  
  
_

  
  
And to add insult to injury, to make it worse that I have to act like a bloody prostitute (I have **SO** much more sympathy for those girls,) I have to pretend to be married. To Joren. Married. **Hah. Hah. HAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA!!!!!! **_Okay, a little hyper there. Perfectly understandable, you know? Joren is so unlikely to get married it's not funny. Especially to me. He's pathetic._  
  
  


  
We spend most of our days ignoring each other, him occasionally giving me those odd bug-eyed looks that the girls I work with try to convince me are signs of his undying love for me. Some of them think that it's so sweet, that we're married; that we married so young; that we're so clearly in love. _Yeah. Right_. And I every once in a while get so bored I start reciting romantic plays to him, and he does back. They've obviously never heard of any of those plays down here, even though in Tortall they've been **WAY** overused, because they always wind up swooning at how "romantic" we are. The words are so pathetic.  
  
  


  
"Dear love, without whom my heart would break! At last, you have arrived! I miss'd you, 'twas true, whilst you were away. My heart all but broke, knowing that you were not by my side!"  
  
  


  
This time it was Joren initiating it. I ducked my head, attempting to look shocked, but really laughing my head off. When we got back to Tortall I was **NEVER** letting him forget this. The boy was **GOOD** at acting!  


  
"Love! Do not say such things, my heart! Such private matters, so public. You cannot say such things! The time - the time for passion is over, love, and now we must settle down!"  
  


  
  
"Nay, Syrne!" We had names. I was Syrne, pronounced Shur-nah, he was Georyn, pronounced Gee-or-in. My name sucked. It was some traditional Scanran peasant name, and it roughly translated meant something like "beautiful" and "meek." _Oh yeah. As if._ It could be slightly worse, though. Georyn meant something about "ox" and "strength."  
  


  
  
"Oh, Georyn! You cannot, nay, you **MUSN'T**, say such things!" I protested, trying to sound as if my heart wasn't in it. I must have sounded a little too convincing, because Joren gave me this rather surprised look for a brief moment.  
  


  
  
Luckily, I apparently wasn't **THAT** convincing, because he stopped looking at me in that way, and started acting again. Drawing me close, to the utter delight of everyone who was watching, who then silently and apruptly turned away, agreeing to let us some privacy, he whispered adoringly into my ear:  
  


  
  
"For Mithros' sake, Mindelan, stop acting like such a friggin' ditz. It's really annoying. Go and figure out what the hell is going on here. I want to go home." A little more audibly: "**Darling**. **Sweetheart**."  
  
  


  
I replied in kind, first aloud, then sotto voce. "**Dearest**," I said, in a sort of moaning voice, then began to whisper. "Who the hell do you think you **are**, Stone Mountain? Do it **yourself**. I'm kinda, shall we say, busy, at the moment."  
  
  


  
"Bitch," he whispered.  
  
  


  
"Feeling's mutual," I replied. 

The Dark Lady Adrienne: Thank you sooo much! I think that Joren is trying to freak Kel out, or something, I'm not sure yet. Sorta the smile that stalkers have in horror movies. You know? That whole thing. I just reviewed your fic, thank you so much for reminding me, I am the worst procrastinator in the entire world. 

Charlotte: yay!!!!!!! I love making people hyper, and I love it when people admire my writing talents!!!!!! Hurrah!!!!!! Seriously, I need to make up a cheer for myself. I know someone who does this whole: stand up and cheer, Nancy is here! thing. It's hilarious. 

Lady Arabian Knight: I KNOW!!!!!!! ( I find this whole thing to be screamingly funny to me, and it looks like everyone who reads this stuff has the same sense of humor. Poor Kel will have to deal with it, however reluctant she may be. 

Keita: THANK YOU!!! NO..... you just reminded me that I'm not allowed to watch tv during the week! Shame on u! I'm addicted to the Simpsons! Isn't little Maggie fab? 

The Dark Goddess: You poor thing. About the Latin though . Veni, vedi, natis cunci concidi. I came, I saw, I kicked ass. You found stupid in your Latin book!!!!!!!! That's no fair! All we know how to say is silly. Fatuus. As in, fatuus porkus. Silly pig. And morte me. Bite me. I love writing love hate relationships! They're so much fun! And yes, I AM sure. It's pathetic. Size twelve font. They'll get together eventually, but I think it's going to take a while, cuz I want the whole tension thing up to the max before Kel gets a crush on him. Thank you sooooooooo much!!!!!!! Have you written anything? If you have, tell me, I'll review it, if you haven't, tell me when you have. Bye!

Cami: nooooooo!!!!!!!! Don't get your mind out of the gutter! You have the right idea! Joren is having fun freaking Kel out with the whole stalker routine. And besides, you're giving me all these ideas. Don't stop! Cytosine: revenge is oh, so sweet. I'm trying to write fast, because it is SOOOOOOOOOOO annoying when people take a month to update a story. I don't take any offense. Thanx for reviewing my other fic, too. I CANNOT WRITE HUMOR, BUT I TRY. It was really nice of u. And ur right, you never quite know where penguins lurk . . .  


  
Cami of Queenscove: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!!! ? entertaining. Kel is evil. I'm putting my personality into the body of a ficitonal character. Ahhhhh. . . . Joren and Kel . . . . . are going to have some . . . . . interesting . . . . . adventures soon. Let's put it that way. I love you, I hate you, I can't live without you? That applies to just about all of my favorite stories. Cool. Thanx!  


  
The Dark Goddess: Ha! Ha Ha! Ha ha ha ha ! But it's soooooooooooooooo funny!!!!!!!! You would havve to see the mental images to believe them, and sadly I don't have ESP. Wahhh. We just learned fatuus because of "fatuue! Est cisium, non rota! Sexte, tu freak." Well not the Sexte u freak, but Sextus is a freak, because he and his friends spend their lives walking in fields, writing while the other dude is reading, throwing statues in fishponds, annoying the slaves, the overseer, and their father, and jumping out of trees in Cornelia's face.  
  
  


  
Lady Arabian Knight: I will!!!!!!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!! Keita, ur so nice, u keep reviewing my fic!!!!!!!!! I'm so happy! Yeah, me too, about the whole neal, kel, joren thing. That'd be so cool to write as soon as I finished this. I was planning on that for a while, but it would require no romantic stuff until like, the sequel, so, no.  


  
  
  
Zenin: u too! U keep reviewing this! You're nice. I know. What is up with joren? He's acting so . . . CIVIL. Something is up, here. I'm basing the whole looks thing on this guy I know. Kel and Joren r soooooooooooo much fun to write as jerks! It brings up my happiness level for a whole day. Thank ya! Kill Mr. Peters for me! I think he's related to my English teacher!  


  
Keita: u reviewed again!!!!!! Of course I'm going to make him do it. I want to end this funny. None of the "well, I guess I do love you, even though I thought I hated you," or "I always loved you, all along," or "I still hate you, darling." I hate soppy endings to romance stories. I don't want anything soppy. ARGH!!!! Thank ya, once more.  


  
Hshuler888: thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That wuz one of my favorite lines, too. I am really blushing over here! That's like, the only way you can say that without sounding all "no duh, you creep!" that your majorly thrilled. I'm soooooo glad u don't think I have stereotypical characters. They are soooo annoying!!!!! Thanx majorly! Yu, thanx soooooo much! I know kel's being majorly melodramatic, I'm kinda basing that part of her on me. (I have very wild mood swings.) Yah, joren's going to get more interesting very soon. And yes! Kill Neal!  


  
Angel of the Storms: u were nice and gave me email. I gave her a plot cookie. See, people, wut happens when u give me email addresses? The Dark Lady Adrienne: I'm trying to shove them in as many awkward situations as I possibly can before I actually do anything. I hate those fics where one day they wake up and start making out.  


  
Siren Porter: thanks soooo much!! Joren and Kel are always so much fun for me to play with. (  


  
Keita: noooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!! I don't want this fic to resemble ANYONE's!!!!!!!! Darn. I'm going to write a Ryer Melka fic as soon as this one gets somewhere. Thank ya. I'm sure I'll finish it. That's the cool thing about reviewers . . . you actually have someone to force you to review.  


  
Cami of Queenscove: okay, I need to hire you as a consultant. You are GOOD at various ways to lock them in broomclosets. Actually, that was sorta similar to the idea I had. But I'm not telling. * grins evilly * No, you didn't creep me out, I LIKED that story. It was cool. But I wanted her to wind up with Raoul. Yes, you ARE demanding. Thanx, though. I need reviewers to feed my ego. I only have 3, count them, 3 reviews on my rock-star-lily- evans-falls-for-remus story. Maybe I should stick to K/J fics.  


  
The Dark Goddess: * grins * thank you!!!!!!!!!! That's okay. I am on a perpetual sugar high. And I like this story. I find it funny. Thaz why I'm writing it. Your Latin book sounds so much better than ours! All I've learned of us recently is 'morte me.' Bite me. Oh well, c ya!  


  
Charlotte: thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've gotten used to the no TV rule, though. I spend like 3 hours a day on the internet (I admit it! I'm an addict!) but I don't think I've watched any TV in the past three weeks. I agree. WE NEED MORE PEOPLE TO WRITE K / J FICS OR ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!!  


  
Lady Arabian Knight: Thank ya! I'm trying to make it as weird and tension filled as possible before I get to anything. Cytosine: yes, that chapter was ooc. These characters are ooc. Who cares? They only exist in my little messed up dreamworld. Tell the evil penguins I have a flame thrower they can borrow. Tell them to use it on Delia.  
  
  



	4. Broomclosets

Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce, although I am an EXTRAORDINARILY benevolent thirteen year old goddess. Bow down and worship me, y'all. Please. Disclaimer: of course I'm TP. I'm just so incredibly bored with my life that I'm pasting up fan fiction. Of course I don't have an ego. How could you?!? Disclaimer: I am still not - damn! - Tamora Pierce.  


__

Part Four  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_  
Unfortunately_  


  
Spying.  
  
  
  
_It's great fun, actually.  
_  
  
  
Joren and I eventually decided that I was going to be the one spying, cuz guards are watched a great deal more closely, and it's actually been rather interesting. I mean, if I have to walk around, smiling sweetly while I hear the Scanran nobles analyze my butt in rather highly descriptive terms, I might as well get to arrange their hideous deaths as well as that of their leader. All I have to do is get them drunk. Then they start talking. It's not exactly that hard.  
  
  
_  
So flashback to about two hours ago._  
  
  
  
I was picking up some of the dishes at the high table, when one of the more inebriated lords started talking loudly about Maggur Rathhausak. I would have smiled, because unless they are drunk the Scanrans tend to be a notoriously close-mouthed bunch, but I was not trying to drop china all over my feet, so I didn't. To make my mood a little better, he was talking about Maggur Rathhausak and his military advisor. About Maggur Rathhausak, his military advisor, and where they had their private little conversations. I wonder what THEY could be about. Really hard to guess. _Either something **completely **scandalous, or rather useful. Hmm………Do I want to go to that? I wonder…_  
  
  
Someone shut him up eventually, I think he was unconcious and bleeding from the nose when I last saw him, but I had heard all I needed to know. I was practically dancing a jig. _Ha HA! New information! My possible, although extraordinarily unlikely, ticket out of here!_  
  
  
  
_Flashback in. Pay attention, people. AHEM! Yeah, that's more like it. Now that I've kinda briefly updated you on current events, let's go to now. I'm getting my miserable miserly paycheck from the bloody person in charge of the stupid, idiotic, moronic, annoying, and thoroughly bitchy servants, and I'm skipping. Gleefully. I have this great big, stupid grin on my face, and everyone is smiling and nodding and edging away from me as fast as they can. I love freaking people out!  
_  
  
  
I walked out of the servant's exit, down the alley, and began to dance gleefully until I tripped and fell over my own face. Not my most graceful move of all time. Embarrassing, actually.  
  
  
  
I tried to wipe the mud from my face but didn't really succeed, except for immediately around my eyes. My stupid uniform/dress was all splattered. Gazing down, I thought: _Dammit. Just the way to wreck my mood. Congrats, world! You officially destroyed my sugar high! Thanks **EVER** so!_  
  
  
  
I muttered a few curses in Scanran to myself, and they must have been slightly more invective than I had previously thought, for I wound up with quite a few more stares than usual. _Or maybe it is my elegant attire. Whatever._  
  
  
  
I reached the opium den, and walked straight in, right past Ryer Melka, who seemed merely amused, and Joren, who was fighting desperately not to explode from laughter. 

__

I hate him. 

Granting them a gracious smile, with a particular sneer to Joren, I walked to the room we had rented in an attempt to clean myself up. I succeeded, and actually managed to make myself look, if I may say so, rather nice. I do look pretty when I have the time to spare.  
  
  
  
I walked back into the main room, and smirked inwardly as I saw Joren do a double take. I think he was surprised. _Loser. _Ryer Melka didn't look up from some papers she was looking at, and inquired in a bored voice:  
  
  
  
"Well, then. Found anything yet? I'm **really **starting to doubt your usefulness as a spy. You've gotten, what, no informatio-"  
  
  
  
I glowered at her while she spoke, and replied in my angriest voice, which is also my evenest, "Well, I found where that idiot has his discussions with his military advisor. In private. What time. What place. But of course, that would be nothing. **Of course**." I looked at her darkly, daring her to open her mouth. She gazed back at me. She didn't.  
  
  
  
Perhaps aware of a hugely complex female power struggle, perhaps oblivious, Joren managed to interrupt our soon-to-be cat fight with an approving nod. _Whatever. I don't exactly need his approval. It is not necessary for my self-image. Bluntly, it is annoying.  
_  
  
  
"So," he said. "Where **is** it?"  
  
  
  
"That might be the problem," I replied.  
  
  
  
"Oh?"  
  
  
  
"Pray tell," Ryer Melka interjected. "Pray tell and hurry on with it."  
  
  
  
"It's in the former servant's quarters," I said, without preamble. "The place they're using to store cleaning supplies."  
  
  
  
"And that's a problem . . . how?" Joren asked quizzically.  
  
  
  
I sighed dramatically. "Darling, sometimes you are just so **totally** without." He looked confused, and I continued. " They store cleaning supplies there. That means there's nowhere to hide except in the shadows. Problem?"  
  
  
  
"Broomclosets," suggested Ryer Melka reasonably. "They'd work. You're mature enough to handle them."  
  
  
  
Joren and I caught each other's eye, and couldn't help it; we fell to the floor laughing. It wasn't particularly funny to anyone who wasn't in on the joke, but in Tortall, broomclosets were used for very subterfuge trysts. Very . . . socially unacceptable ones. Reputations were ruined very easily by broomclosets.  
  
  
  
Ryer Melka glowered at us. "Excuse me, children. I'm sorry, apparently I walked into a crowd of seven year olds. In case you didn't notice, that may be the **ONLY** possible hiding spot if you two want to listen to Rathhausak. And yes, I want to send both of you. Come on. It's just a broom closet."  
  
  
  
"Melka," I said, "please don't. I already have to pretend to be married to him, do I have to pretend to be having some form of a sex life with him, even though he's my husband? Hello? Do you have any **IDEA** how embarrassing that would be?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah," Ryer Melka replied calmly. "And? Your point is?"  
  
  
  
I made a few blustering noises, and Joren cut in, bored.  
  
  
  
"Chill, Mindelan. You're not my type. Don't worry about anything. I'm not going to go make your brains out, or anything. Your virtue is perfectly safe."  
  
  
  
  
  
I turned to him and glared. "I'm so hurt, Stone Mountain, your one and only desire is not to make love to me. My heart is broken."  
  
  
  
He smiled, a cocky, self-assured smile.  
  
  
  
"It should be."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Broomclosets  
  
  
_

  
Two days later Joren and I were in a tall wooden broomcloset, waiting in silence for Maggur Rathhausak and his advisor to show. We had been here for almost an hour and they had not come. It was getting a little uncomfortable in there; _not exactly surprising._  
  
  
  
_Really. If you have two teenagers in a small, enclosed space, it's bad enough. If you have two **TALL** (I am five foot eleven, he is six foot five) teenagers in a small enclosed space, it's even worse. But the very worst thing that can ever happen is if you have two tall teenagers who hate each other's guts in said small, enclosed space, especially if the male one is breathing hot, moist air down the female one's neck.  
_  
  
  
_We aren't saying a word, but it's very uncomfortable, very close. I am practically squashed against Joren because of lack of space, and in an attempt to make sure that the door didn't fly open while we were listening to Maggur, his arms wound up slightly limp around my shoulders. No, it isn't like that - thank Mithros! - but he **IS** trying to keep the door shut, and that is the only possible way._  
  
  
  
_His arms **ARE **rather closely around me though. . . a little **TOO** close . . ._  
  
  
  
I gritted my teeth for a moment, and tried to think of something else. Anything else, but Joren. Goddess_. He is still a total bastard, even if he is perhaps the most handsome man I have ever met. Still a bastard. Must remember, a bastard . . . Food. Cleon's annoying crush on me. Slowly killing Numair, Wyldon, and the King. By torture. Very very painful looking instruments, like the ones the Yamani emperor had left over in one of the wings of the palace as souvenirs of that era five hundred years ago when robbers were everywhere and everyone had to know how to use weapons. Ahh.  
_  
  
  
About twenty five minutes we heard something. Joren stiffened a bit, and I smiled out of the corner of my mouth. _Yay. They were here at last._  
  
  
  
They walked quickly, decisively, their boot heels clicking on the stone floor. Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack-clack-clack. I could hear it growing in a crescendo, first softly, then gradually building. Finally they stopped. I swallowed. They were right in front of our broom closet.  
  
  
  
They were talking in Scanran, with great alacrity. I could only understand part of what they were saying. Despite my time here, I was not perfectly fluent in the language, but I understood the gist of it, although I could tell that Joren didn't.  
  
  
  
It was long and complicated, and filled with a great deal many yes-my-lord s and no-my-lord s and I'll-see-what-I-can-do-my-lord s. I was growing bored, but paying meticulous attention so that I could get the bloody hell out of the gods damned hellhole before it was too late. To summarize: in order to improve Rathhausak's popularity among the Scanran people, he was planning an outing, a rather simplistic P.R. event in which he would go into the streets of the capital and speak with the common folk. _Cha-Ching!_ _I mean, can you spell 'target'?_  
  
  
  
That wouldn't sound too terribly exciting to anyone else, but to me it meant my ticket out of here. Back somewhere where, even if there was snow all winter long, occasionally there were brief reprieves when it was merely cold. _And in the summer . . . ahh. . . warmth. Warmth is highly underrated in Tortall. **HIGHLY** underrated._  
  
  
  
I must have been edging away from the door, because I think I collided with Joren's foot, and he gave a slight yelp. Conversation immediately ceased outside. _Oh Mithros. Oh Mithros. We were officially, completely, and royally screwed.  
_

  
Maggur Rathhausak and his advisor were about to open the door. Thoughts flooded through my head. _Oh Mithros. Oh Mithros. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I'm too young to die. They hang spies in Scanra. I saw someone who was hanged once, when I was off with Lord Raoul. It was horrible. I don't want to die. I'm only fifteen. I don't want to die. Oh Mithros, I don't want to die!_  
  
  
  
They were a millisecond away from opening the door. Joren was as tightly wrought as I was. He didn't want to die, either. I was suddenly struck with the thought of how young we were, how young and how naïve, despite what we pretended. _I am only fifteen. He is only seventeen. We are too young for all this. I don't want to die. I don't, I'm admitting it to myself, although it is rather late by now, that I don't want him to die. Or even to be hurt. _  
  
  
  
I don't know who started it: me or Joren. I think Joren did, because he turned me around, but I might have, because I leaned in first. Whoever started it, though, started it, and the second that the door to the broomcloset was opened, Joren's lips had caught my own, or mine had caught his, and either way, there was no turning back.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Fireworks, or Lack Thereof  
_

  
  
  
We sprang apart almost instantly. I'm not sure if it was our long-hidden acting skills coming to life, or our utter surprise at the fact that we had just kissed each other, a completely revolting concept, but we quickly turned, thoroughly embarrassed, to look at the stony faces of Maggur Rathhausak and his advisor. _Somehow, I do not think they are amused. Wow, genius, I wonder how you **FIGURED **that out.  
  
_  
  
I nudged Joren a bit with my foot and trembled. _Improvise_, I thought tightly, _Joren had **BETTER** learn how to lie VERY well, now is the time for improv! Or total bullshit! Whatever! Just make it convincing! You total bastard! Oh well! I get to go first!_  
  
  
  
"**Milord**!" I protested, my eyes wide, my mouth slightly agape in awe and terror, sure to keep my self looking soft and defenseless. "Y-y-y-your majesty!"  
  
  
  
I must have looked very convincing, as well as very fetching. _Growing up is half the revenge, they say, but I find it very annoying. _It does have its pluses and its negatives: Rathhausak seemed to calm down a bit, but seemed to be subtly checking me out._ Eww. Well, one good thing out of this whole mess: I know for certain that I was rather attractive to the opposite sex. Or perhaps it was Scanran clothing. It's rather, ah, more low cut, than Tortallan. And, you see, I have a reasonably large amount to display._  
  
  
  
The advisor hissed. I realized that I didn't know his name. _Milord. Milord will have to do for now._ He stepped forward, closer to me. For some reason these two were ignoring Joren. Obviously they did not swing that way, for, upon reflection, most women (and men too, no matter what their orientation) tended to find that hard. I was never able to, even as a page, when I was sure he was the foulest being on earth. _Now he is one of many foul beings._  
  
  
  
"What," he breathed, menacingly, and I would have stepped back for he had not cleaned his teeth in a while, and the odor of goat cheese was very strong, that stuff should be banned forever from civilized dining tables, "are you doing in here, girl? Didn't your mother teach you not to. . .intrude. . . . upon . . .private. . . . conversations?"  
  
  
  
"Milord," Joren said, looking rather sick, _from kissing me? Or from being caught, who knows, I think I'd prefer it to be from getting caught, don't think I'm **THAT** ugly_, "your majesty, we are. . . most humbly sorry." He bowed his head, mouth slightly open, the perfect image of a handsome child. The advisor softened, a bit, though Rathhausak did not. We had read in one of the reports from Tortall that the advisor had had a son, who had died at the age of eight. Joren must have reminded him of him.  
  
  
  
I managed to get some tears in my eyes, I suddenly gazed into Maggur Rathhausak's eyes. I was beautiful, I was crying, and I knew exactly how to get out of this mess. _Flirting. Hey, it works._  
  
  
  
"Your majesty," I said, barely above a whisper, sounding at once adoring and awed. "Your majesty, I beg your pardon. I am-so sorry-for having interrupted. I assure you that I was not listening, your majesty. I promise that I was not. I promise that we were not. I swear it!"  
  
  
  
Joren looked at me rather thankfully, and I myself was rather pleased, for I had carried that off very well. _I missed my calling. Instead of becoming a knight, I should become an actress. I am a very good liar.  
_  
  
  
Joren sighed shakily, and looked up, blue eyes innocent and naïve. "We didn't mean to, your majesty, milord. My wife-Syrne-and I, we're loyal to you. We didn't mean it."  
  
  
  
The advisor scrutinized us, his eyes narrowed. Rathhausak was still looking me over. _Goddess, when he's dead I am going to **SPIT** upon his grave. I really dislike people checking me out if I don't happen to find them attractive as well. I feel like a damn object, and it's **VERY** uncomfortable.  
_  
  
  
"You may go," he told us, stonily.  
  
  
  
I smiled, nervously, and curtsied; Joren bowed. We scurried off before they could call us back. When we were safely out of sight and hearing distance, I turned to face Joren, suddenly furious.  
  
  
  
"**What the hell is wrong with you**?" I hissed. "**You practically got us KILLED, you IDIOTIC BASTARD! I personally happen to LIKE being alive, thank you VERY much**!"  
  
  
  
"Shove it, moron!" he whispered back, just as angry as I was. "Always have to blame someone else, don't you? It was **YOUR** fault, Mindelan, **NOT** mine!"  
  
  
  
"As if!" I replied, glaring at him. "If you hadn't yelped, smart one, we'd still be in there, getting information that could **GET US A TICKET AWAY FROM HERE. **Okay? I have **NO** desire to stay here **ANY** longer than I have to."  
  
  
  
"Well, if you hadn't stepped on my foot-"  
  
  
  
"If you hadn't yelped! I was **TRYING** to get away from the **FREAKING** door, Stone Mountain! Okay? I was trying **NOT** to get caught by the advisor what's his face, and Rathhausak, and what do you do? Yell. Thanks, sweetheart, thanks a lot."  
  
  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
  
  
We were back at the opium den. I glared at him, my hands on my hips, looking up, dammit; he did something completely surprising.  
  
  
  
He laughed.  
  
  
  
"Melodramatics are thy name, Mindelan," he said dryly. With that closing part, he walked to his room, leaving me to walk to mine. I ignored Ryer Melka, as she glanced inquiringly. She was apparently amused by our antics. I did not desire to discuss anything with her. Not now. Preferably, not ever.  
  
  
  
Back in my room, late that night, as I was washing my face, I thought.  
  
  
  
_Joren almost gotten us killed, but we weren't dead. We ought to be, for spies in Scanra are traditionally executed almost immediately, but one of us had the quick wit to save us. Which one?  
_  
  
  
I paused, as I applied a few dots of a moisturizing lotion to my cheekbones. I wondered. _Me, or him?_  
  
  
  
_That was practically my first kiss, too, if you thought about it. Oh, Cleon had kissed me a few times, and once Neal's cousin Dom had, but for all intents and purposes, **THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS.**  
_  
  
  
_And I mean, excuse me! Aren't you supposed to get fireworks, and lightening, and all that sort of romantic fluff on your first real kiss? Aren't you supposed to know if he is forever, or not? Isn't your heart supposed to beat wildly, and your palms sweat? Aren't you supposed to know if you love him? Heck, aren't you supposed to fall in love? I mean, **HELLO**. Problems with this picture? Anyone?  
_  
  
  
_I fear I am getting seriously disillusioned about romance.  
  
  
  
Damn._  


  


  
Anonymous: thanks! Yep, it's definitely gonna wind up the way to get out of it. I mean, there are only two possible people who could be hiding in a broomcloset: spies, and people who are madly in love. Which one gets executed and which one doesn't?  
  


  
Violyn: creepy? Ok, new reaction. Sorry about the cliffie, but I wanted to get a bunch of reviews. . . . . heh heh heh. Thanks for reviewing, btw.  


  
DeadlyBlackRose: jumping around like a bunny is fun, especially if you are totally hyper, like I usually am. Thanx sooooooooooooo much for reviewing!!!!!! I want to steal your name! It rocks!  


  
Angel Of The Storms: Thank you! I was GOING to have this up the next day, except that I am lazy and had a severe case of writer's block, so no story for yall. Sorry it's December, though. Wasn't planning on taking THAT long. Thanks!  


  
Lady Sandrilene: yep. Literally a broomcloset. I wanted to be original. C'est la vie. Thank you!!!!!!! Arigato gozaimashita, Sandurirene-san. Danka schurne! Siren Porter: thank you so much! They kinda already hate each other, but that's okay. They''ll wind up together, unless I get evil and decide to write a sad end to this story. Joren still dying. Don't think I will, but if I ever get cruel, that's what I'll do. Thank you!  
  


  
  
DaniSue: Sorry if I was a bit annoying. *cringes* thank you very much. I'm trying to make him as realistic as possible, but it's HARD!!!!!! Evil people. Whenever anyone writes them they come out as absolute slobbering sweethearts, or really, completely, evil. Thank you!!!!!!  
  


  
  
Keita: of course you're not obsessed. You couldn't possibly be. No. of course not. Yeah, I'm going to join your conga line! ACTION!!!!!! Very VERY hard to write, even though I wrote the skimpiest love scene in the history of the ENTIRE world. Thanx. :oD, 2 u, 2.  
  
  


  
Silverhair: new name. It's cool. Thank you SOOOOOO much. First you help me with the idea (I was going to have them trip and fall into each other) and then you say it's funny, and then you ask me to plz update soon. (preens majorly) I know, about the whole K/J fic thing-it's like NO ONE writes any. The only person who's writing any right now are The Dark Lady Adrienne (a month ago) and DaniSue. It's annoying. Mandi-girl finished the fic, though. . . .  
  
  


  
Evilstrawberry: never fear. I have an immense terror of little brothers, perhaps because I am the youngest of three and the only girl. I get to be the brat. . . . thank you SOOOOOO much. You are REALLY nice. But yes. Christmas. . . . ahhh. . . . .  


  
Shadow of Blood: the reason this is in first person is because originally, this had different characters. I was writing a Chrono Trigger fic, LuMa, although a slightly different plot, and I wanted to write Lucca that way. Thank you so much! Yeah. . . . I need to describe more. I used to over- describe, now I under-describe. Thank you!  
  
  


  
CamiofQueenscove:YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS S? Thank you! Sry I took this long updating, cannot write love scenes to save my life, and while there may or may not be some in this chapter (I'm not being evil, I don't know!) writer's block. What can you say. Took French for two years, all I learned was that cheval meant horse (therefore, pas de cheval means step of the horse, already knew what pas de chat meant) and how to conjugate verbs. E, es, e, ons, ez, ent. STOP THE CUTE ANIME FACE! GAH! And I might give yall a cliffie in this one, too. . . . . BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHH!!!!!!! Okay, ahr, stop. You are rubbing off on me! Darh!  
  
  


  
P.S.: thanx 4 reviewing my WHAT NOT TO WRITE WHEN HIGH ON SUGAR..... Fic. I was bored. What can I say? I'm probably going to remove it, or only work on it when I have writer's block. My stuff isn't particularly funny, but I try, and after that, it's easier to write Disillusionment.  
  


  
  
Squire Kali: Thanx!!!!!!! I'm so glad you don't think she's stupid. I'm sort of basing her on me in my truly HIDEOUS moods (once or twice a week.), so she better not be stupid! I'm supposed to be smart! (or so they think. . . ) Thoroughly insane, but smart! I'm trying to write this differently, because I'm a selfish person and love reviewers, and stories that sound the same as everything else don't get any. Thank you, again!  
  
  


  
HShuler888: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I cannot believe that this story makes you crack up! People are saying that, but every time I make a joke at school, people just look at me funny! I swear, it's true! Thank you SO much. But besides that, it's fun to write. . . .  
  


  
  
Zenin: hee hee hee hee hee. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yes, I am evil! I know it! Last year, in sixth grade, in math class my math teacher made each of us write down our goals. Normal people, like my friend Susanna wanted to go to Berkeley for undergrad, Harvard for law, and make a killing suing for medical malpractice. I wrote that I wanted to skip school and become the dictator of a small, third world country, failing that, to embezzle $80 billion dollars from the federal budget and escape to Tajikistan. He only thought I was joking. . . . Mr. Peters tried to kill me last night! He called the police about that 'evil youngster' down the street. Hah. I have eggs, and I know just how to use them. . . . I FEAR THE KNIVES!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!

  
  
  
  
The Blind Assassin: yeah! It doesn't matter that he's dead! If Thom could bring Roger back to life, surely Numair could bring Joren! They are TOTALLY meant to be together! Ok, I need to stop going all !!!!!. Sry I didn't update sooner. Thank you for reviewing!  


  
Cytosine: I'm glad it's. . . . interesting. Thank you! There actually WAS a point to them kissing, which will be revealed in this chapter. MAJOR point to their kissing. Besides, I want to get them home so I can write a sequel in which they haven't told anyone about the 'we.' THANK YOU!  
  
  
  
MagixPawn: Thank you! Another very. . . . interesting, though. I wonder what's going on with the telepathy around here. . . thanx!

Keita: No . . . I'm so sad . . . I can't have Neal do anything in this fic because he is like three thousand miles away . . . NEW K/J IDEA!!!!!!!!!! Thanx majorly. U reviewed AGAIN!!!!! ( 

Queenofilangees: Interesting name. It's so cool. Thanks an absolute TON. You are sooooo nice!!!!!!!!!! 

Cami of Queenscove: What's up with you are BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA? Have I entered the evil villain of the world contest? Oh . . . well, trust me, there WILL be broom closets. But I think I like my way better. Although, actually, how to get them kissing is a good idea. I think I might steal it from you. OK? THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Lady Sandrilene: Thank you!! And yeah, Conscience rocks. I am addicted to K/J, but practically no one is adding any new stuff! Darn it. 

The Dark Goddess: Ecce Romani, right? Thanks for reviewing again. BTW, this is my second year of Latin, so we're about done with the book. I'm trying to make the plot thicken . . . but I'm highly tempted just to have Maggur fall off a cliff so that Kel and Joren don't have a plot to obey. I'm still winging this. That's why it's kinda odd. 

Min: Thank you!!!!!!!! I know, it rocks! And by the way, your fic was AWESOME. Really awesome.

Angel Of The Storms: must write Joren. Must write Kel. Must stop getting side tracked into these hilariously funny daydreams in which I am thrown into Tortall, meet Kel and all of the people, and start laughing hilariously to myself when I get these mental images of describing to a blond dude exactly who every writer who writes about him pairs him with. ROTFL!!!!!! Thanks.  


  
Yu: Of course Kel's his type. Joren and Kel are just being abnormally thick again. But don't worry, I'll get everything sorted out in the end . . . wouldn't they? I mean, honestly.  
  
  
  
annie, you just gave me the best idea. Thank you sooooooo much! Now I don't have to try and struggle to think of a vaguely plausible way for Joren and Kel to wind up kissing-which they have to do soon, dammit! or everyone will get thoroughly bored and leave my fic in hatred and disgust. Thanx!!! You laughed?!? That is so funny, in a really screwed way. Every time I try to make a joke people just smile, nod, and edge away, murmuring about men in white coats and wonderful places where I can eat jello all day long . . .  
  
  
  
CrystallineLily: marvelous name. Love it. Thanks! Of course there's going to be romance. It's really funny; if you ever read HP fics, about 1 out of five stories will have a broomcloset in it.  
  
  
  
Evilstrawberry: another fabulous name. Y didn't I think of that? OMG, thank you soooooooo much! You are so nice! Thank you! ( ( ( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (( (!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
The Dark Goddess: yo, you reviewed again! I think you've reviewed every chapter I've written. Thank you so much! Ugh. My parents don't ground me, but they threaten to perpetually. "If your room's not clean you're not going to ballet on Monday, dance next week, school (hey, I'd go for that), the library this afternoon . . . I feel great pity for you. Cya!  
  
  
  
Zenin: maniacal giggles rock! It guarantees that no matter where you go, you won't have to fight your way in cuz either everyone is slowly edging away or the maitre d throws you out. YES DRILL SERGEANT! OBEYING ORDERS! I know though. . . if anyone saw them, it'd be hilarious. For the sake of anyone who actually reads other people's things:"Dearest...whore." "Pooky- wooky...bastard." It would be sooooooo funny to see!  
  
  
  
Lady Sandrilene: arguing is the best. I hate fics when all of a sudden they're all: I love you. I love you more. I love you even more than that. I love you from the bottom of my heart. They don't seem like very realistic representations of a relationship to me. Or maybe that's cuz mine tend to be either disfunctional or mainly imagined on both of our parts . . .  
  
  
  
Cami of Queenscove: THAT IS SO COOL! But HOW DARE SHE SAY THAT JOREN AND KEL ARE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT AS A COUPLE?!!?!?!?!?!?! I have this very odd urge to make up fifty zillion free email accounts and keep mailing her notes that say: joren. Joren. Back to life. Or I won't buy another book. I wonder if that'd work. . . I think I'm going to sit down and lay off of the cough medicine. . . I think it's screwing my head . . . I'm going to start crying too, though. I had this secret little wish that she'd bring Joren back to life. I don't like Dom too terribly much. He never does anything vaguely romantic towards kel, where at least Joren acts kinda like he has a bit of a crush on her. Damn. Gah. Tissues. Must find tissues.  
  
  
  
Keita: Thanks! So glad u like kel this way. I tried to update soon, but I accidently deleted half of my harddrive by downloading this stupid aol password cracker . . . astalavista.com.  
  
  
  
Cytosine: caught between boo-hoo ing and dancing. I've gotten spoiled I have. . . all these people being all nice and worshipful, but you saying that YOU LOVE IT! So I'll forgive you. I'm writing it off of the top of my head, with only a vague idea of where it's going, so that's why it sounds a little choppy. And Joren and Kel can't be themselves. Y would they go togheter, then?


	5. The Blind Origami Master's Sword

Disclaimer: I'm still not Tamora Pierce. * Sob * Disclaimer: I am STILL not Tamora Pierce. Thaz ok. . . . I have this strong suspicion that her stories would really suck if I wrote them. I have very little imagination. But I try. Trust me: I try.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


__

Part Five

  
  
  
  
  
_Insanity_   


  
  
  
I woke up the next day early and moaned, pulling the woolen blankets tighter around me. It was before dawn, and I was exhausted, but I couldn't go back to sleep. I lay reclined against my pillow and began to ponder the meaning of life. Failing at that - I clearly have **NO** future as a philosopher, quite sadly, unlike Neal -  
  
  
  
_Oh. Neal. Long time, no think. I'd almost forgotten that he existed. Such a nice friend, aren't I? I wonder what he's up to, back in Tortall. Probably he's fallen for yet another ditzy court lady. Maybe he's going out with one of my sisters. They're ladies, they're pretty, they're ditzy. I mean, perfect match! Which one said he was cute? Adalia? Oranie? I can't remember. I wonder._  
  
  
  
_But that's not interesting, either. I can't pretend to care about Neal, not at the moment, anyway. I guess you could call him one of my best friends, but I'm not sure if we're even friends at all. It's kind of a gray area. He doesn't know anything about me. I don't think that anyone does.  
_  
  
  
_Goddess. Why am I in this whole self-pitying mood? It's so annoying. I annoy myself, even. I really hate myself when I'm like this. I sound so . . . pathetic.  
_

  
Blah.  
  
  
  
I threw the covers off my body and stepped out of the bed, walking to the window. I was freezing. It was raining outside, and the middle of winter, and I was dressed in only a thin cotton nightdress. I gazed out of the window, watching Scanra wake up, and lost myself in thought.  
  
  
  
_Why did they really send us here?_ I wondered. _Yes, Maggur Rathhausak is a threat to Tortall, but why send two inexperienced teenagers and a hired assassin to finish him off? Especially, why us? The trio of male evilness said Joren and I needed to learn responsibility, and all that other crap, but we **ARE **responsible. Most of the time. We just hate each other. Why do they care?_  
  
  
  
_It's not as if we were causing problems, or anything. Well, big ones, that is. The two of us just argued. What would they rather have, people arguing, or people insane? Honestly.  
_  
  
  
I heard a knock at the door.  
  
  
  
"Come in," I said, lightly.  
  
  
  
Ryer Melka stepped in. She was already dressed, in a pair of deer hide trousers and a linen shirt.  
  
  
  
"Good, you're here, I was looking for you. Did Stone Mountain brief you yet?" she inquired briskly.  
  
  
  
I looked at her questioningly. "Huh?" I asked, intelligently.  
  
  
  
"I . . . take that as a no?"  
  
  
  
I nodded. "Yeah, I have no clue. Whatsoever. Brief me 'bout what?"  
  
  
  
She smiled at me. "Okay," she said, and she almost sounded excited. "You see, that information you two got last night-"  
  
  
  
"Last night?" I asked, stupidly. "You two **talked**?"  
  
  
  
She made this exasperated sigh noise. "**Yes**," she replied. "He reported to me when I came in. You were asleep, I believe. Anyway, the info you two got basically means no more spying."  
  
  
  
"Oh?"  
  
  
  
Ryer Melka nodded. "Yep. All you and Stone Mountain have to do now is help me plan and lie low. The no more spying part is an **order**. I don't think either of you two want to have Rathhausak almost kill you, again. So basically, during the day you two work, at night, you help me set up how we're going to knock him off. Okay?"  
  
  
  
"Deal! **More **than happy to cooperate, let me assure you."  
  
  
  
We looked at each other for a moment. I was seven inches taller than she was, and probably thirty-five pounds heavier, she was twenty years older. I didn't trust her very much, she didn't like me.  
  
  
  
"We're going to have to work together, you know," she said, simply.  
  
  
  
"Yeah," I replied, after a moment.  
  
  
  
"And you're going to have to work with Stone Mountain."  
  
  
  
I said nothing, looking at my feet.  
  
  
  
"I know you two don't like each other," she told me, finally. "Personality clash, majorly. I think it's rather cute, but every time I attempt to voice that thought one of you starts glaring at me. You two are very funny, you know. But, just, **TRY**. All right? When this is all over and you're back in Tortall, you don't even have to acknowledge each other's existence. Just, while we're here, **TRY**. All right?"  
  
  
  
I nodded, semi-apathetic. "Sure. Whatever."  
  
  
  
Ryer Melka smiled knowingly. "I just had the same conversation with him. He said the same thing, you know. You two are a lot alike. It'd be so cute if you to stopped hating each other. Make a cute couple."  
  
  
  
I had an odd expression on my face. _Ryer Melka is insane. And she has just proved it._  
  
  
  
"Oh Goddess, I hope not," I replied, dryly. "I don't think that the world could take any more of us. I intend to stay far away from Joren of Stone Mountain. Any children we had would be the spawn of the earth."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Blind Origami Master_  


  
  
  
I woke up a few days later with an intense headache from a bit of vodka- spikked tea the night before and the feeling that my body was going to seed. As I moaned, searching for some form of relief from the crushing pain inside my skull, I glanced down, and confirmed it. These weeks-months, now, months I realized, we had left in late fall, and it was the end of winter, which in Scanra meant that it was April-had not been good for my physical condition. The most intense exercise I had had recently involved scrubbing pots, and my muscles were disappearing at an alarming rate.  
  
  
  
_I need to talk Joren into fighting with me._  
  
  
  
I flung myself back onto my bed, rubbing my face. _Oh, GODDESS do I need to go back to sleep. I'm delirious. Hallucinating. I really need to convince Melka and Stone Mountain that we need to change inns. I'm breathing in too much opium. I think I'm high. My brain is being damaged, has been damaged, actually, as was proven by that thoroughly moronic thought. . . . . . .._  
  
  
  
_I don't think I've actually fought him since second year. Funny. Not physical fighting, anyway. Honestly though, third year he became a squire, and we haven't done any form of boot-to-the-head-arm since then. I want to see how good I've gotten. And besides, it would give me an excuse to wrestle with him. . .  
_  
  
  
_Where did THAT thought come from?_  
  
  
_  
Gah, I HAVE gotten high off of opium fumes. I'm going to try and sleep them off._  
  
  
  
~ * ~  
  
  
  
  
  
Five hours later, someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water on my head.  
  
  
  
"What the hell?" I shrieked, suddenly awaken. "What the fuck was that for? **DAMMIT**!"  
  
  
  
Joren of Stone Mountain stood there, matter-of-factly, by my bed. His arms were crossed, a large metal bucket was on the floor. Looking at me calmly, almost amused, he raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. Goddess, I **SWEAR** that boy plucks them.  
  
  
  
"Annoyed, Mindelan?" he inquired, coolly.  
  
  
  
I responded with a low growl, and whacked him in the arm. "Jerk," I grumbled.  
  
  
  
He sniffed, sounding hurt. _Yes, Joren is clearly himself again: annoying as ever. Yay. He had been getting a little odd recently, since about the day I'd had that discussion with Ryer. Wonder why. _"Why, darling, sweetheart, love of my life and light of my heart, whatever could possess you to refer to me, your one and only true love, as a jerk? I am hurt, dearest, **truly** I am, for even in this hardened heart I feel pained by your callous dismissal. But alas! Such is life! I go, and am never to return aga- "  
  
  
  
"Oh, shut up, Joren," I told him. "You're laying it on a little thick, you know. Don't go into the whole 'love of my life' crap. You sound like Cleon. It's a terrifying concept."  
  
  
  
Joren gasped, dramatically. _I really need to direct this guy to the nearest theater. He'd get a job in ten seconds flat._ "You-you-you. . . . . **THINK**. . . . . . that I sound. . . . . like. . . . . .. **CLEON**? Oh!" he whispered, shocked. "Oh! I-I-I. . . . need to lie down." He flopped onto my bed, I grinned, _I think I might want to keep this guy, y'know, makes me laugh, hard thing to do, _and screeched when he realized he had landed on the wet part. I laughed, squeezing the water out of my hair. "Why you little-"  
  
  
  
He grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the bed. I shrieked, arching my back to get away from the wet blankets. He smiled oddly at me, again, and laughing, proceeded to place pieces of ice down my neck. "You **FREAK**!" I screamed, grasping his wrists and dragging him along with me to the floor. "You ***$^&#^**!-"  
  
  
  
Joren rolled us over, under the bed, and was kneeling on top, hands on my shoulders, pinning me down. He winked. "I win?" he suggested, whispering, a half suggestive expression on his face.  
  
  
  
I glowered at him. I swear, if I ever stop hating him I am going to murder him.  
  
  
  
"Unfair," I pronounced, enunciating clearly.  
  
  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And your reason is?"  
  
  
  
I looked at him innocently. " You cannot win unless we are dueling. And that was not dueling, just. . . . I don't know, **WRESTLING**. In order to win, one of us has to challenge the other to a duel."  
  
  
  
"And?"  
  
  
  
I would have drawn myself up indignantly except that, remember, we're under a bed at the moment. I sank down for a moment, rolling my eyes. "I don't suppose you happen to have any gloves?"  
  
  
  
Joren shook his head, and gazed into my eyes, quizzically.  
  
  
  
"That sucks," I said bluntly, "I need them to slap you with."  
  
  
  
He shrugged. "You want to duel?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
  
"Whatever," he said, nonchalantly. "This evening?"  
  
  
  
"Yes," I replied, "the practice courts. The palace. Midnight."  
  
  
  
"And how are we to get back? Properly?" he inquired, sardonically.  
  
  
  
I was confused. "Walking?. . . . . . . . "  
  
  
  
He groaned. "That wasn't **QUITE** what I meant, Mindelan." And rolling off me, he got up calmly and walked to the door, opened it. "By the way, you MIGHT want to do something with your hair. You look like a street rat." With that parting shot he left, boot heels clicking on the stone floor outside.  
  
  
_Huh? What was up with that?_

Why would HE care?….  
~*~  
  
  
  
My hands were cracked and bleeding, my back hurt from all the dishes, but I was dressed and armed and psyched up as I walked to the practice courts at the Scanran palace. I had braided my hair back in a tight, green ribbon that looked marvelous with my dark hair, and was wearing my favorite loose black trousers, and was carrying my sword. We had agreed-not staffs, not Shang, not whips or brass knuckles, not spears or glaives. Just two naked swords. No rules. That was all.  
  
  
  
My sword is possibly my most precious possession on this earth. I know that this sounds more than a little odd, and a bit crazy, too, but I swear that I can her the old fashioned silver-steel sing when I fight. It's beautiful, the most beautiful sound in the world.  
  
  
  
It was given to me when I was six years old. Before we lived at the Emperor's Court, we lived in a more distant part of the capital city, in a small but comfortable house. Next door, in a small cottage, there lived an old man. He was blind. He was blind, and he was a master at origami. I never saw anything like the creations he folded, and I'll never see any again. They were beautiful, and looking back, it's heartbreaking, his gift.  
  
  
  
He was from a rich family, the last of his line. He'd given away most of his money, for he hadn't seen the need. Never needing anything but food and paper, never seeing the need of any of the things most aristocratic families took for granted, he took a leave of his land, giving it to his most trusted samurai to care for, and retired, far away from the land where he was expected to be a warlord, while he was not.  
  
  
  
He hadn't taken very much with him to the cottage, just a few family relics he couldn't bear to part with. I used to visit him as a small child, all of the time, delighting in the magic he created by folds and creases. It was wonderful, in my opinion, one of the few true magics in the world.  
  
  
  
He died of a stroke the summer when I was six years old. It was horrible, and I missed him, with all of my heart. Almost everything he had was sent back to his family's estate, and his house was empty. I cried everytime I woke up, amnesially planning to go and visit him, and then remembering a few minutes later that he was dead. I cried.  
  
  
  
In his will, he left me my sword. It's beautiful.  
  
  
  
It's a Masamune.  
  
  
  
There were two great makers of swords, years and years and years ago, one named Masamune, one named Muremasa.  
  
  
  
Muremasa created swords for war, for death, for carnage. His swords are breath taking, all sharp and hard and beautiful. They quite literally take my breath away, and make me shiver. They are made to kill, for the sole purpose of killing, not evil by themselves, but evil when wielded by humanity.  
  
  
  
Masamune crafted swords for peace, for safety, for defense. My sword is a katana, and mine is one of his best, and final creations. It's made of silver-steel, the old Yamani compound, still perfectly sharp, years after it was created. The most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.  
  
  
  
I had reached the practice courts. Whispering a prayer to the soul of Masamune for guidance and strength, I drew my sword, his sword.  
  
  
  
"En garde."  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
_Note to everyone: I was making a lot up about the origami master, but there were a few things that I didn't make up. The origami master does exist, or he did, and he is or was blind. When I was in preschool, about four years old, he came to our classroom. He spoke Japanese, so only a few kids could understand him, but we all could see him, and follow him. I thought it was perfectly natural when I was little, but looking back, it's amazing. I mean, being blind, and being able to do something like that? It's just. . . .. . . . astonishing.  
_  


Zenin: Ryer Melka's going down? . . . . . . ( I must reprint that, for the sake of other people who actually read this stuff. Please? Thanks!  
  
  
  
Inserted Piece, by Zenin, in her review, copyright Zenin, whenever she reviewed.  
  
  
  
Joren pulls out a Uzi and fingers the trigger lovingly while Kel finishes polishing her newly sharpened glaive. Ryer Melka's smile falters.  
  
  
  
"Er, guys...why're you here?"  
  
  
  
Joren smiles slightly and cocks the gun, aiming it calmly at her head. Ryer takes a step back, still nervously smiling.  
  
  
  
"Heh...what that?"  
  
  
  
"It's a gun."  
  
  
  
"A what?"  
  
  
  
"A gun," Keladry snaps impaiently.  
  
  
  
Ryer Melka nods and silence reigns for the space of fifteen seconds. Then: "What's a gun?"  
  
  
  
Joren shrugs, now getting even more annoyed. "How the hell am I supposed to know? It...gods...it'll hurt, 'kay?"  
  
  
  
"Um...right. So then, do you know how to use it?"  
  
  
  
Joren manages to calm himself down and begins to demonstrate how the Uzi is operated. "Sure, you just press this little thingy here...damn!"  
  
  
  
Bullets tinkle cheerfully to the floor. Ryer Melka raises an eyebrow, beginning to grin. "So..."  
  
  
  
Kel rolls her eyes. "Pure genious, Stone Mountain. Any other tricks you'd like to show us?"  
  
  
  
"Shut up, Mindelan."  
  
  
  
"Oh, and by the way, maybe you should have a chat with the guy who sold you that thing. It's a piece of cra--"  
  
  
  
"I said, SHUT UP."  
  
  
  
  
  
BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! BRILLIANCE!!!!!!!!!!!! PURE BRILLIANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Anonymous: I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!! Thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much!!!!!!!!!!! Trust me, the revelation will be. . . . .interesting. . . . . and will be in probably the next chapter. This chapter I got the inspiration from cytosine. And yes, SO sorry no Jor-Jor. I like him too. I think ill keep him in this story. ;-)  
  
  
  
Keita: yes! It's like, from my bio class, punnett squares! Likelihood kids would be female! 1 in 2! Likelihood kids would be male! One in two! Likely hood kids would be total brats! 2 in 1!!!!!!!!! I don't think I'm going to write a sequel, though I might, cuz I have this plotline bouncing about in my brain, and joren and kel with attitudes would so fit in! imagine this: Joren and Kel are together, but they kinda sorta havent told anyone, and are spending their time trying to sneak around, away from one another. Like?  
  
Lady Sandrilene: I'm not that evil, I'm just manipulative. C? Thank ya! Stole it from 10 Things I Hate About You, which I've never seen, but read the script of twenty million times. I embrace the title psycho. So much better than sociopath!  
  
Ma'mselle Evilstrawberry: thanx ya! I am so sorry about the lack of Joren. . . . . . he didn't really fit in with a discussion about whether kel and him would work or not. Kel is MAJORLY in denial. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  
  
Valencia: I didn't mean the whole 'I won't write until July' thing, I just wanted reviews. I have an ego problem. *smiles apologetically* Thank you!!!!!!!!! And yeah, I totally agree. I'm in love with this one D/H story, and the author took TWO months to update! And another one took EIGHT. What's up with that?  
  
  
  
Blade Griffin: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!! This is one of your favoratust stories? Ca-ching! * grins from ear to ear * I get totally hyper too, usually during math class. 'Death to Farmer Bob.' Thanks for saying that it wasn't too bad, I know it wasn't terrible, but I don't think it was the best chapter I could have written. THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Angel Of The Storms: Joren in this chappie, I promise. Thanx ya!  


  
Cami of Queenscove: You know, if it wasn't for the fact that I somehow know you live in NY, and that your name is Stacey, I would be convinced that you're the Binxinator. Seriously. Both of you do the evil evil evil evil evil thing. It's odd. Don't worry, I've decided that this one will probably have a happy ending, but that the next one will be sad. ( All of the stories have happy endings, and I want this one to have one to, but my next one I'm going to try and make everyone who reads it sob at the end. . . . . . . Yeah, and I need to read 6 of your story. I'll remind myself later.  
  
  
  
Yu: Oh. That sorta was my diss in that chapter. I think I was asleep at the time. Yes, Kel is hving these major mood swings. I think she needs to cut back on her romance novel reading, though. Thanks!  
  
  
  
Keita: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bob? Gah!!!!!! Everyone is in love with the words Bob and Fred, including a friend of mine who's in love with Bob the pole! Thank you, though! I can't believe you think this is well written! (does some major preening) but being evil is fun. . . . . evil people unite! Thanx!  
  
  
The Dark Goddess: I use Microsoft Word, but thanx anyway. If I used html, then I would have to be kinda a moron. I read bios too!!!!! I'm weird. I kinda am interested in who everyone else is. Odd. But thaz ok. Yeah, my life used to be kinda cool, but we've been living in Houston since fourth grade (I'm in seventh) and my parents are iffy on whether we'll move again. They want to, I want to (I'll miss my friends, but I don't really like Houston too much.). the flamethrower!!!!!!!!!!! Ur probably going to think that I am really scary, and probably that I'm a pyro, too, but I want a flamethrower. That would be SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO COOL!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Lady Me: hey!!!! Majorly sry haven't been able 2 update the other one, must do that soon. Thank you!!!!!!!!!! And the lady me thing is cool. It seems that everyone is named lady fictional-character-they-have-a-crush-on. Cool.  
  
  
  
Cytosine: I'm using ur idea. I'm a thief. What can I say? Kel's going to feel out of shape and force joren to duel with her. Im taking some inspiration from 10 things I hate about you, too. . . . . . heh heh heh heh heh. Thank you! And u just reminded me of my exams. Bad cytosine. It pairs with guanine. Hah! I WILL pass the science midterm! I WILL!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Majestic Elf, Lady Elrond: fab name. It rocks. Yeah, I've read 'Fallen Idols.,' and every other (literally) j/k fic on this site. I typed in 'joren' one time on the find button, and voila! J/k fics as far as the eye can see. . . . . . . . more romance soon (not that I could POSSIBLY be hinting at anything). . . . . . .  
  
  
  
Cami of Queenscove: that is actually SUCH a good idea! It's like: I review you, you review me. Oh yeah, that gives me an idea: IF ANYONE WANTS ME TO REVIEW ANY OF THEIR STORIES, JUST YELL! I HAVE PLENTY OF FREE TIME! AND IT ONLY SEEMS FAIR, AS WELL AS MAKING ME SEEM SLIGHTLY LESS MISERLY! I'VE ONLY DONE LIKE 16 REVIEWS. Ok, I'll shut up now. I want to murder all of my teachers at the moment. . . . . . . . bloody midterms. I just hatd my math one, it's SATURDAY. I mean HELLO. The police men are going to hand you over to the men in the white coats, you know. And they'll take you away to a wonderful place where you where comfortable white sweaters, eat jello ALL DAY LONG, and live in a room with padded walls. ( Lovely thought, isn't it. murders global teacher*  
  
  
  
Siren Porter: yes, I'm evil. Joren and Kel would ROCK as a couple. It would be so cute, and SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO funny. Cya!  
  


Blade Griffin: thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!!!!! You think kel is such a better character and that my 'worst enemy' fights rock? * smirk * my ego is getting too big, you people are feeding it way too much. . . . . you have a fab name.  
  
  
  
Angel Of The Storms: thank you!!!! I was going to get this up sooner, but I have major problems with plots. I can never think of anything beyond a scene! It's annoying. Thank you very much!  
  
  
  
Siren Porter: I'm not going to be evil in this fic, but I might in the next one. . . . hee hee hee. Thank you!  
  
  
  
Valencia22?: thank you! I like Dom too, it's just in my story Kel has to diss everyone but Joren, so that their getting together could seem vaguely plausible. Valencia. Cool name.  
  
  
  
Zenin: yeah, I think kel is having a major mood swing problem. Cuz see, he is REPULSIVE, he's the worst being in the entire world, and HELLO, there were SUPPOSED to be FIREWORKS? Hello? Problem with this picture? Yeah, I think that's a MAJOR compliment! I do that too, with my fav stories. Except, it's really annoying if they're really long, cuz I printed out this whole Lily/Snape one one time, and it had over 100 pages! It was HELL to print out! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The knives, the knives!!!!!!  
  
  
  
DeadlyBlackRose: thanks!!!!! Wasn't serious, I only lie and cheat, I don't steal. (joke, every one, laugh. Ha? Ha ha? Ha? Ok, then)


	6. A Swift and Unwelcome Realization

Disclaimer: Do I look like Tamora Pierce?!? Okay, that was a stupid question, you wouldn't exactly know, and I don't know what she looks like, either, but I personally am thirteen, five foot six, solidly built, with very large feet, gray eyes, and light gold-brown hair. I don't think I'm able to have published something before I was born.

__

A Sudden Realization

"En garde," he said, softly, his sword pointed at me, and we began.

Dueling at this level is odd, a strange, wild dance of death between two dancers, and beyond them, the world does not exist. You have to keep your focus carefully, never allow yourself to be distracted, never gaze away. You must always regard the other dueler with an aristocratic sneer as you go about your work, no matter who they are: an enemy or a lover, or any number of degrees in between. It does not matter if you do not intend to kill, it is still death that you are playing with, with your shiny metal swords, still death that you are tampering with, still the Black God you are provoking.

Our swords met with a fierce clash, and the dance began.

We have very different styles, Joren of Stone Mountain and I. He is very controlled, very deliberate, very planned, a rather undaring duelist who wins by attrition, whilst I merely flail about flamboyantly, depending greatly upon by ability to catch people off edge. Our fighting was a training master's dream: proof that we did not all have to fight the same way, for I could remember vividly being twelve years old and listening to Lord Wyldon rant about our lack of initiative regarding the sword. I never had that problem, I loved it from the beginning. From the first time I picked up a sword, there was little else, even glaives did not hold their charm for me anymore.

I pulled back, switching the sword over to my left hand, and attempted to force his out of his iron grasp. It did not work, I pretended to have feinted, and attempted to switch sides once more. He leaned forward, his sword smacked mine, not to unbalance, only to psyche out. Not exactly what you would refer to as fair play, but then again, what swordsman, or woman, has ever played fair? 

We fought hard, will clashing as swords did. Neither of us would ever admit to defeat, I could see that clearly, without the slightest trouble. We were both to proud, the only hope of someday ending this would be a mutual surrender, for neither of us would make a mistake. 

I, deciding in favor of the grand tradition of 'it's-not-being-unscrupulous-it's-just-having-no-scruples', dove to the side, diving into the ground, clearly confusing the hell out of Joren. _Hello? This is a duel, Mindelan! Not a ballet class! _I could imagine the Stump saying, as he had said so many times before, but I liked my moves. They were fun.

He tried to get me in the kill position, but I was too fast, rolling over onto the side, and springing up to the side where his back was.

"Stone Mountain," I sang lightly, and as he ever so quickly turned, I again switched the hand I used for the sword. _So glad I'm double handed, makes it **so **much easier. _I tried what I privately called 'the scythe' move: an odd, backhanded whack at another person's stomach, but he blocked that, and countered with what I regarded as his trademark move, a feinted slice turned into a jab. 

__

Good one, Jor, I thought, _credit where credit's due. I do need to make you teach me that one._

I jumped to the side, aware that the jab would have gone through my ribs, _not child's play anymore. You two are adults, not ten and twelve years old, bickering childishly. You can kill each other. I don't think he'd want to kill you, he's fond of you whether you like it or not, but be careful, _said this little voice in the back of my head. _ Quiet_.

Our swords wound up meeting in the crossed position once more, and suddenly, it was over.

Joren dropped his sword. "You've gotten better," he said conversationally, as if five seconds earlier he hadn't been trying to stab my heart out. "A lot better, you're pretty good. A little uneven sometimes, trying stuff you can't properly do, but you're pretty good."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, you too. You're kinda conformist, though, very into the whole 'wear-them-down' theory, aren't you? I wouldn't have thought so."

He blushed slightly—_what did I say?—_and then dismissing that valiantly, gave me an arrogant grin.

"I won."

"What the hell?" I said, defensively. _Damn, he's provoked me. Again. How come he can **always **do that at the flip of a hat? _"You did not!"

"Yes, I did," he insisted. "You're just being thick, refusing to realize it."

"What! Stone Mountain, you are the most **utter**—"

He smiled impishly at me, showing white teeth, and waggling his fingers, ran off.

I didn't bother to try and catch up with him. I didn't want to. All I wanted at the moment was a little quiet time to meditate upon my style of fighting, think of improving it. I wanted to beat him, and I didn't know why. It shouldn't have been that important to me, and it was.

Such is life, I guess………… __

~*~

I arrived at the opium den about half an hour later. Joren was already there, playing chess with Ryer. He gave me a friendly nod, she winked conspiriatorly. _Why would she………_ The thought struck me, and I dismissed it horrified from my mind. _ That is the most **appalling **idea—_

I went straight into my room and changed into a soft white shift, no dress, a little robe over it. I didn't want to wear my see-through night gown in front of everyone in the inn-den-bar place, because I was going to return for something to drink in an hour or two, and this seemed rather normal. I looked into the mirror briefly, pleased with what I saw.

__

I wasn't kidding when I said I looked innocent, I thought, _I really do, especially in white. Very pretty, too. I might even qualify as beautiful, under the right lighting. _

I reached into my trunk and picked out a book, whereupon I settled myself on my bed for an hour or so, enthralled once more into the world of knights fifteen hundred years ago. 

~*~

I walked outside for a glass of fruit juice, about one o'clock. _I **am **an insomniac_, I decided wryly, looking out in surprise at all of the people still there, _but then again, so is every one else in this place!_

Ryer, who I had decided recently really was a sweetheart, underneath it all, had her eyes half shut, and she was leaning back in her chair, listening to the music played by the pianist. She had the dreamiest expression on her face, a sort of far off ness, a serenity I had never seen her with. _Maybe music is her key. _

But where was Joren?

I found him as soon as I had completed that thought, for he was standing at the bar, talking animatedly with the barkeeper. He was being rather lively, but not conspicuously so; I didn't think he was drunk. A little tipsy, judging from the slight color in his aristocratically pale cheeks, but not drunk.

I leaned against the wall, gazing at him. I tensed up, suddenly, and found my way to a chair, where I put my face into my hands. My mouth was slightly open, and I do not think that I had breathed since the last short gasp of breath. I forced myself to put some air into my lungs. I was startled, my heavy breathing hurt. Finally I let go, and sat back up, in rather bad posture, still looking down at my feet, not permitting myself to look up. 

"Don't," I whispered softly, "don't you dare."

The nearby inhabitants ignored me, and I ignored them. Clenching up my fists, I took in a ragged, uneven breath, thinking about green tea, and pink elephants, all sort of random things to distract my mind, and none of them worked. I sat up perfectly straight, and allowed myself, finally, to reflect upon what I had just said to myself, which I knew in my heart to be true.

Dear Goddess, I think that I am in love with Joren of Stone Mountain. __

Thank yous: I'm really sorry, it's going to take about ten hours to say thank you separately, you all are permitted to whack me very hard with the nearest sharp pointy object, but I have to write this before midnight cos I have to get to bed early, so all I can do is your names, and I'm really, really sorry, cos I like it when authors do the whole thank everybody thing, so I'm groveling myself, but here are the names of everyone I'd like to thank, there'll be some extra, or some missing, sorry: Wildmage Fina d'Avaera, The Dark Goddess, cytosine, Queenofilangees, aric (!!!! New person!!!!!), Regen (YAY!!!!!!!! NEW!!!!!!!!!), Chaos (YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA HA HA!!!!!!!), hawaiikel (MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! THRILLED!!!!!!) Arabella Silverbell (POSSIBLY NEW DON"T KNOW, TERRIFIC IF, TERRIFIC NOT), Blade Griffin, Anne (? Not sure about this one, maybe), silverhair, Channing Senora Cabellaro (fabulous name),HShuler888 (yeah, learned about that, fell in love with my friend's shrine of kurt cobain, she's making everyone fall in love with him), Night-'n'-Day, The Dark Goddess, cytosine, Angel Of The Storms, Evilstrawberry, Lady Sandrilene (I'm sorry, I'll do it soon, I keep forgetting), Stacey. 


	7. One by the Name of 'Sweet Monkey'

Author's Note: I know that Kel is ooc. It's next to impossible to write Kel and Joren falling in love if both of them are themselves. It's not impossible (think some of the better stories) but it's **incredibly **hard, because it's so easy to make Joren a sop, and I decided that it would be easier to adjust the personality of Kel than to attempt to write her as she is. If she was herself, why would she be going to Scanra? She and Joren wouldn't be on speaking terms, let alone arguing terms. 

Besides, if you read the stories, I'm sorry, but Joren really is a pretty nasty person, or at the very least, has a pretty nasty persona. He and Kel wouldn't fall for each other, I don't think. I can imagine some scenarios happening (The Dark Lady Adrienne's _Conscience_, for example, or The Blind Assassin's _Fallen Idols_) but they're pretty rare, same for Draco/ Hermione s, or any number of other enemies-falling-in-love ships. (Though of course, I'm **totally **addicted to them………….. especially the v. romantic ones that aren't all total fluff……tee hee. !. !!.)

So just for the record, if I get anymore notes talking about how ooc Kel is (and thank you, people, you actually are always very nice in them, I'm just being a bit bitchy right now, kind of in a bad mood, I'm incredibly moody sometimes) I'm going to make her bohemian-gothic-drama-queen or something. Maybe I should put that in my summary: An ooc Kel falls for Joren while the author attempts to make up a plot that did not exist five minutes ago. Okay, that sounded **incredibly **whiny. How about: Slightly AU, First Person Kel, squire, future assassin, cynical and sarcastic, realizes that her life may actually be getting worse. She's falling in love….

Lol

Heh heh heh, I write the longest, most random author's notes when I'm bored, don't I? 

La la la la la la la la la…… Oh yeah, if you're cytosine, or anyone who reviewed chappies earlier, when I reformatted the story, it kept the reviews but removed the chapter, so you can't review unless you sign out. * cringes * I forgive you if you don't review, I definitely wouldn't, just remember to keep reading the story…… 

I have a test on monerans and viruses in my semi-bio class. Blah. I don't care about any of that, I don't think I'm going to become a microbiologist, although virology is interesting, and I really didn't need to do the ager and fungi / bacteria lab, and I _especially _did not need to see how much gross grimy stuff is on everyone and everything. **I do not need any more irrational phobias!!!!!**

And now this is the revising Amanda! My science teacher **still **hasn't given me my test back! Evil, evil, evil….. And I have the new lab partner from hell: science genius boy who thinks he's god's gift to mankind, and that I'm a moron. It's very fun to watch his face when we get grades back, I only **seem **like I'm a bit of a ditz. I'm actually pretty smart. I get good grades, and everything. On the other hand, we had to look at all this cyanobacteria in class today, and he monopolized the microscope, and he was fully aware! I mean, jeez! Problems with that? I spent it **drawing**, lightbulbs, for heaven's sake. I'm in a rather bad mood right now—life is so much easier when all you have to do is tutor your lab partner. I am **so **going to kill Kaplan if he doesn't stop…

Ok, ok, I'll shut up now. La la la la la la la la la la la ………….

Part Seven

I woke up two weeks later, uneasy, unsettled, and unhappy. Nothing seemed to have gone right recently, and I feared that my life was going downhill, back to the perpetual doldrums of attitude, and that nothing would ever return what was for me, normal.

No, I hadn't had any long, screeching rows with Joren, no fist fights, no –**I hate you! Well, I hate _you! _**sort of moronic disagreements—but on the other hand, I hadn't exactly kissed him, either. In fact, I barely had had any physical contact with him at all. We hadn't done anything—no communication beyond what was strictly necessary, and he seemed to be avoiding me.

I swung myself over on my bed so that my face was in my pillow, and I breathed deeply in the musty air, coughed, and decided to flip back over. I lay still, gazing with unending fascination at the ceiling. _Damn,_ I thought bitterly, _dammit. _

Oh Goddess, are you acting like a lovesick puppy! I berated myself silently, disgusted, hoping beyond hope that the words would somehow imprint themselves into my brain. _Get a **grip**, Kel. You've been acting all weird around him every time you come within ten feet of him, no wonder he's been avoiding you._

I bit my lip, angry, both at myself and the fact that, try though I might, I couldn't deny the fact that I felt differently towards him. _Of course not, stupid, you're in **love **with him, _mocked an invisible voice within my head. I chose to ignore it, the only option that left me any dignity.

__

But I don't love him! I protested, _Mithros, I'm not even sure if I **like **him…………_

I sat up, swallowing, and then rose, drew a piece of paper from one of my cases, and grabbing a quill, flopped onto my stomach.

__

J. S. M., my quill scratched out. I was prepared to make the full list that Lalasa had told me about one time, when she had overinhibited just a bit, for, and against, when I hesitated, looked at the paper, and threw the crumpled paper against the wall. _Hell. _

I couldn't write a list like that, either he'd find it, which would be **incredibly **embarrassing, or someone else would, which could possibly be fatal. Besides, something that private couldn't be written down. You had to keep it in your head, where no one would ever find it out.

__

Maybe I was right, earlier, I thought, _about the whole like-love thingie. Maybe. 'Cos they're kinda intertwined, aren't they, can't have one without the other, can you._

Nah, that's wrong.

I propped my chin onto my elbows. _Nah, it's not like-love, that'd be if I had a crush on someone normal, like, well… Neal, say, he **is **very good looking, and would make more sense than this. It's not whether I love him or just like him, 'cos I sure as hell don't **like** him one gods-damned bit, but whether I love him or hate him. _

Either of which are equally plausible, see, 'cos sometimes I do one, sometimes the other. They're the same bloody thing, aren't they?

Oh Goddess, this argument is just going around in circles. I'm even confusing **myself**.

"I dunno if **I **even know what I'm talking about," I said, quietly. "I don't make any bloody sense, do I."

__

Hell with the pity party, I said, and got up. I changed into a simple, blue smock and a white shift, and left for work. _Outta here._

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go…"

***

"Here you go, milords, miladies," I said automatically, in an annoyingly (to me, anyway, not that I was the best judge of human nature) cheerful voice, as I placed a platter of roasted meats on the high table, and curtsied. "And may the gods all bless you." _And may the force be with you. _

It was the traditional thing to say as you served the Scanran nobles; several nodded, a few muttered blessings (or curses) under their breaths, and most ignored me. _The better way to go, of course, _I reminded myself, _listening in on conversations is **so **much easier when they treat you like part of the furniture. _

I returned for several more trips, carrying meats, and vegetables, and meats and vegetables, and meats, and more meat, and even more, but it was not until I came in bearing a delicious apple-y smelling confection that I wanted desperately to shove down my throat that I heard anything of interest. 

"—ain't 'xactly doin' anything to 'em, really, but they're all fire' up—" someone said, in a thick drawl, a man from the border, most likely: he had the Tortallan-Scanran sound. 

"—dunno why, ask 'im, he'd know. His serfs, after all—"

"—all rebellious all sudden—"

"—but why—"

__

So the peasants aren't exactly happy, either, I thought, _rebellious, eh? Does there need to be an evil, villainous laugh right now or does there need to be an evil, villainous laugh? The muahahahaha type, or the bwahahahaha type. Must bring Merric along next trip north to assassinate ruler, damn useful tool he'd be……_

Okay, why do I keep distracting myself like that? Honestly. 

The meal was completed, the kitchen maids cleared the remains off once they left, I had a brief reprieve for food, and another brief lesson in drama from Joren. ('My love!' 'Dear heart!' 'It pains me so, I missed you much!' 'Oh, darling dear!'….. et cetera. Very painful, and often very funny. Cracked me up most of the time.)

Entering the servants' lunching hall, I helped myself to a plate of rice and overcooked green things, the origin of which I was not sure. The cook's helpers refused to eat the meat, so I had gathered that it was probably a good idea to avoid it; and after Schala, one of the more gossipy ones, had told me what they did with everything that fell on the floor, I figured that it was also probably hazardous to the health, as well. _I think I'll skip……_

"Ho, Georyn," I said cheerfully, as I slid down to sit at a table, "how are you today, oh best beloved?"

Joren had been hunched over, morosely chewing at bread, but he straightened up to gaze at me, his eyes twinkling, a startling change to his face, which caused my stomach to perform a little jump. "Wonderful, my angel," he replied, and leaned in, whispering, "_Mithros, Mindelan, don't you think you're getting a little **too **enthusiastic? Did someone pass you some happy water today, or something?"_

"I am not drunk!" I protested softly, indignantly, and then smiled, lovingly. "Oh, Georyn…." I sighed, breathlessly, gazing at his face in not-all-entirely feigned admiration. _The boy's got the most incredible smile, _I thought, and mentally smacked myself. _Don't think that type of thought, don't even **think **that type of thought….even if that thought isn't technically one of those, don't even **think **about it…_

He rose, drawing me close to him. I could smell him, that thoroughly unique scent that was just…**him**…so unique and so thoroughly delicious. His arms around me, I permitted myself—_come on, you **want **to, don't lie—_to lay my head upon his shoulder, relaxing in the comfort of love in someone who did not love me, even if only for a moment. 

__

Six foot five and five eleven! I exulted. _Perfect heights! Cha-ching!_

"Anything unusual happen—darling?" he whispered into my ear.

__

He really needs to stop breathing down my neck, I thought hazily, my ears prickling at his hot breath.

"Later, my love!" I replied, in a shocked tone as I drew away; and for the benefit of the audience watching either in delicious amusement at such young infatuation, and/or violent jealousy, decided to wing it. "Such a thing to say….nay, do not! I beg of thee!" _Okay, that sounded a little **too **play-ish, kinda too theatrical._

He regarded me calmly. _I think he might be getting used to my dramatic outbursts, we've definitely gone over the edge if such is the case…._Pulling me back, he ran his long, aristocratic fingers through my hair. I involuntarily shivered, though not badly enough for him to notice. _I really, really, really hope….**Really**…Or else I am **so **screwed…._ "Indeed, Syrne?"

I nodded meekly at him, glaring. "Gods Joren," I breathed all but silently, _oh fucking hell, I just called him Joren—_"shove it, will ya?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No," he replied.

"Hell, you're annoying," I said, then sat down to eat. He posed himself next to me, watching me, with a fake lover's yearn on his face. "Go away, S.M."

"S.M.?" asked a stringy, graying old washerwoman nearby. "Odd lover's name, isn't it, girl?"

"Um," I smiled tightly, _damn!, _"Well."

"What does it mean, anyway?" she inquired archly. "Don't 'um' me, young one!"

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for utter bull, mentally thinking of all plausible explanations for S.M. I could give to the old witch. _Never calling him that again, **never **saying that again…._

"Suh-suh-sweet, uh, um….well…."

"Don't babble, child!" she reprimanded. "Answer me, and be quick about it!"

__

Oh, **shit**.

"Sweet…." _Mathematician? Marmalade? Malabaster? No, that isn't even a **word**…………_"Monkey," I finished abruptly, a bright smile on my face. "Yeah. Sweet Monkey."

She gave me the oddest look.

***

"Sweet monkey," he repeated, for perhaps the 19th time. He smiled at me, his handsome face 

all but godlike. "Honestly, Mindelan, is Sweet Monkey the best you could come up with?"

"What? You prefer Stoned Molehill, or Sacred Molar, or Silly Marmalade, or some other crap, 

you idiot?" I volleyed back, irritated by the whole mess. _And he seems to be enjoying it to the _

full, the bastard.

"What the….Hell, Mindelan, is it possible that you could have picked a worse phrase. I

assume you meant Stone Mountain, though, smart one?"

We were in the opium den once more, amid the thick haze of smoke and overlying smell of alcohol. 

I think that Joren must have been at least a little tipsy, to be speaking so openly, but perhaps not. 

No one could notice us, anyway: they were too drunk or drugged to care. Ryer was, as

usual, out somewhere, somewhere being especially vague. I personally did not want to know

what she did with her free time, or who she spent it with. _Inquiry into other people's lives_

has never exactly been my favorite pastime. 

"Yes, I did. Change the subject," I demanded. _Cross me and die._

"What, but—"

"Now!" I shrieked.

Joren gave me that quizzical look again, and shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, your imperial majesty,"

he teased in a light voice. "I live to serve, o wondrous one."

I smiled at him, only two, three feet away. "That's the spirit!" I replied, "always nice and submissive. 

Way to go."

"Yeah, okay. Sure. What is it, anyway?" he asked. "You came into midday all skipping. What'd 

ya hear?"

I looked at him, serious, knowing it could indicate the future, which of course meant our lives, and 

yet secretly, very very happy. _I am **so **going to bad girl hell when I die._

"I'll tell you later," I blurted out, self-consciously, shyly. "Not here, too many people listening. I'll tell 

you though."

His eyes pierced mine. "Where? Your room? Mine?"

"Let's go with….yours, I think," I replied. 

He nodded sharply. "All right, Kel," Joren said, walking off, indicating that the conversation was 

over. But wait—

__

He had called me Kel? 

Yes! People, I just got the most awesome pair of shoes, they're black sandals, very high heels, very slinky. And the perfect short dress to go with them, this short brown-gold contraption. I love it! I love it! I love it! 

Thank yous to: Everybody, of course, in the entire world, but particularly the person who first invented chocolate cake (yum!) as well as: (drum roll, please!)…..

****

Glasen Dauthi: (of the totally awesome name.) Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Heh heh heh…..I am very hyper, very very very hyper, I had cherry coke and chocolate cake for dinner, and you should **not **give me that much sugar……. I'm sounding like a broken record! (Okay, where did that come from?) Thank you. But now I've probably scared you away……. A new person! Ha! 

****

Twitch: Ha! Second new person! Except, well….darn. I was trying to make her seem to have been in love with Joren all along just totally oblivious. Oh well, I tried. And I failed. And I'll try again! I **need **to write a scene in which they make out! Although I think you're in serious competition for Joren, about half the people on this site, for starters….. lol. Thanx! 

****

KittyMonster: eek! Ok, I'll take your threat seriously. Lol, though. Thank you so much! I know everything is kinda unrealistic / non-medieval, but thank you so much! 3rd new person! And I want to steal your name, it's fabulous. Thank you!   


****

Yu: omg! Rotfl! For the sake of anyone bored enough to read these: FINALLY THE DENSE ONE HAS REALIZED HER FLAW!! *points to Kel* Okay, my computer hates me. It won't let me delete, use ctrl+b, or the arrow keys. GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you **so **much!

****

Lady Sandrilene: Ola. Como estas? I have **got **to quit pretending that I know Spanish, when that is about the extent of my entire vocabulary. All right, I'll agree with you about that being totally vague. I was kinda spacing out, AND I WANTED TO END THE STUPID STORY!!! GAH!!! Seriously, how is it possible that FICTIONAL characters can have problems doing what I (the author) tell them to? Honestly. All right. Thank you **tons**. (I like constructive criticism. It's only when people start yelling like maniacs that I get annoyed.) 

****

Blade Griffin: * blushes terribly * I reformatted them. I think I should probably have given everyone the heads-up about that…… 

****

Squire Kali: Yes, I am an evil, evil child. I love writing cliffies, but I hate reading them. Thanx! Blackmail is very good to convince people to update things. La la la….. I should NOT be given chocolate cake….

****

Black Rose: Thank you!!!!!!! Ok, I'll try to space it smaller, sry about that. THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!

**Anonymous**: Thank you! Tee hee! I LOVE it when people say that; I have the ego from hell and I need to constantly refuel it……. Thank you SOOOOOOOO much! 

****

Evilstrawberry: yes, very poor Kel…..she **is **coming out of denial...Thank you SOOOOO much! 

****

Free2Bme: Yes! Doesn't it rock when people FINALLY get it through their thick skulls?!?!?!? Thank you SO much!!!!!! 

****

Lucia Dreams: Yeah, I reformatted. I really should have explained, I kinda confused people, didn't I? 

****

Cytosine: Yeah. I think I explained at the beginning of the chapter, the whole reformatting thing was a bit of a mistake. Although yeah, he is INCREDIBLY annoying, especially when you've never READ THE STUPID STORY BEFORE and it tells you you've already reviewed it. That sux. Ok, 2 people telling me that that part was random, I need to fix it, he's just being annoying, normal, thanx for all the plot concepts. BTW, you have some flame throwers, right? I have a sword that I could lend you, and a bunch of matches……..and you could ask Zenin to loan you some knives…… 

****

Lady Me: ! thanx for reviewing my stories, it's incredibly nice. 

****

Queenofilangees: hey. Thank you!!! I'm so glad you like my story! And yes, the last line is one of MY favorites, too…….

****

Arabella Silverbell: Yes! Kel's FINALLY gotten it into her head that: --gasp!—she likes Joren! I'm so happy it's done, I was about to kill fictional characters if they didn't hurry up…….. thanx! 

**Angel Of The Storms** : Thank you! So glad you liked the end. Personally, j'adore the 'bye' part you write, it's awesome.

****

Henna: Ha! 4th new person reviewing that chappie! I am fanfic author's heaven….. as to the addiction, aren't we all. I NEED someone to write more, I'm starting to read ANYTHING enemies-falling-in-love ish, I really need more K/J fics….. about the birthdays, awesome. My first grade teacher and I shared the same birthday, too…..ok, that was random. W/e. Thanx! I LOVE your name, BTW. 

Ahh…… I am FINALLY done! No more revisions! No more personalized little notes! Those take FOREVER, you know. 


	8. What is this 'flirtation?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a couple hundred books, a lacrosse stick, and a pair of these really fabulous black heels. I don't think I own anything but the plot of this story, which I might someday steal to write a story of my own. Meladria of Kendilean and her love/hate Georien of Essem. Perhaps. I think I'll change the names, though…..J 

A/N: Ugh, I have to write this upstairs, at the stupid computer without internet access. Gah, I hate doing this. It's annoying, and kinda defeats the purpose of not having to use floppy disks, which I despise, cos I can never find them again. Pure evilness.

This is going to be longer than I thought, but there **is **a plot, and a pretty complicated one, if I may say so, even if it really is just an excuse for me to make the two snog. What can I say, I'm thirteen years old. I think I'm allowed to be a bit of a hopeless (but realistic, I highly doubt that I'm ever going to have contests of who loves the other more, or that my future significant other will speak to me in flowery language) romantic. Besides, I think it would be **soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo **funny. Imagine the scene:

The entire court of Tortall is out to see Cleon marry his moronic heiress, and Joren isn't dead. All of a sudden, a teenage girl pops out of no where, and starts critiquing everyone on their love lifes, being particularly evil to Alanna and Kel by going into (embarrassing) detail, and to Jon by telling him that he's a toffee-nosed git. (I can't help it, I like that phrase, I stole it from one of my friend's fathers…….) And then, she proceeds to make a hyper idiot of herself by telling Joren and Kel that they should fall in love……

Oh my gosh! HOW CAN YOU NOT FIND THAT FUNNY?!? Seriously. You have no sense of humor, or perhaps you just aren't as high on sugar as I am. Whatever; Same difference. Okay, on to the story. Here we go……

Chapter Eight

I was clad only in a thin nightgown, with my hair tightly braided, and as I walked down the deserted hallway, I shivered, from fear or cold, both equally plausible, I was not certain. It was the dead of night, two or three in the morning, and while I could faintly hear few deep rumbles of laughter echoing through the building, they were few and far between, and quite the exception. _Everyone but the hard cores and me are asleep. Gosh, **that's **a surprise! _

I held a small, lit candle, the torches having extinguished themselves long ago, and stepping forward, I rapped sharply on a wooden door, twice.

There was no reply from within, so I knocked again. Still nothing. I knocked louder, and then tried the door; it was locked. _Gods, he's paranoid! _I yanked at the door; it did not give. Propping my foot against the door, I once more tightly grasped the handle, and pulled with all my strength.

The lock gave way, and I stumbled to the floor. "**Dammit!**"I whispered, sharply. _That **used **to be my backside. Used. As in, past tense. _

A slumbering figure lay reclined on the couch, asleep and oblivious to the little 'locked door drama' I had just performed. I gathered myself up and watched him, quietly closing the door, with an expressed that I would never admit to by the light of day. _He looks so…innocent._

Joren of Stone Mountain looked younger than he was while sleeping. He was seventeen, and quite a good specimen, but as I gazed at him, I could easily have mistaken him for thirteen or fourteen, a mere boy.

__

Even though you are roughly that age, I reminded myself, self-mocking.

He slept with a slightly often mouth, I realized with strange delight, an endearing quality, with a half smile on his face and little child snores. His long blond hair had fallen into his face, and he lay curled on his side, like a cat. _I've always been partial to cats……Oh goddess, Kel, **stop it**. You're starting to sound all lovesick-idiot-y. Stop it or I'm going to have to hurt you. _

I touched his warm, bare arm, and shook him. "Mithros, S.M.," I said, in a voice I didn't quite recognize, "wake up, darling, will ya?" 

"Go** away**!" he muttered incoherently, and hid his head beneath a pillow. 

I pulled his arm. "Come on! **Dammit, **Stone Mountain! Wake **up**!"

"Shut up."

He had a glass of water on the small table by his bed. Being nothing if not an opportunist, I decided that –_hey, this is the only time I'll **ever **get to do this_—it was the perfect chance to wreak revenge on him for breathing. _I **need **someone with an evil, villainous laugh, come **on**, get with the program here!_

Thirty seconds later, after Joren had attempted to strangle me, we were on the floor, me expertly pinned once more, his long hair barely touching my face. It was an odd sensation, and more than a little attractive, to me, anyway. _Well, he **is **a better wrestler… _I smiled cheekily at him.

"It worked," I informed him, in a lightly evil tone. "Am I allowed to laugh at you?"

He was glowered, and then pulled himself off of me. "What…the…**fuck**…was…that…for?" he asked, slowly, patiently, as he offered a hand.

"Well, you wouldn't wake up….." I trailed off, finally noticing the fact that he was not annoyed, but angry, that in fact, he was more than angry, he was furious. I hadn't seen him this mad in, well, forever. _And Joren is very scary when he is angry..._

"Has it ever **occurred **to you," he continued, in that strained voice, his ice blue eyes burning with that cold ancient fury, so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful, "that you are being incredibly stupid."

"Joren," I interrupted, "S.M., stop it! Stop it right now." I gazed back at him, losing myself in the depths of his eyes. _If I let myself, I could never get out of them... _"Stop it," I whispered, helplessly. The situation was out of my control.

He leaned forward, closer to me, and I thought for a moment that _he is going to kiss me_. He was so close, everything else seemed to disappear, the room, the inn, the world. I couldn't concentrate on anything, anything but him, and the fact that the one thing I couldn't control was him. Joren was only a centimeter away. "Don't do that again, Mindelan," he whispered softly, his left hand gently cupping my face, his right encircled behind my back, pulling me closer. I couldn't breathe. "If you like your head where it is, on your neck. Do you understand?" 

I nodded mutely, my expression unreadable. _Dammit, S.M., you scare me. _"Sure. Whatever," I replied.

"So what was it?" he asked after a long silence, calmed down considerably, "That you were all excited skipping-ly about."

"The word is 'trippy,' Stone Mountain. Trippy. And I could tell you if you'd take your hand off of my **face **I could answer you," I said tartly. He seemed rather embarrassed, blushing even, _rather cute when he blushes, no, stop it, bad thoughts, chill with the whole handsome thing_, and muttered under his breath, "Sorry."

"It's okay," I replied, swallowing. _It would be nice if he'd keep his hand there. Oh well._ "Well, um, see, when I was serving stuff, I overheard some of the Scanrans? Saying that they, well…."

  
"They, well…." He mimicked. "Yes?"

"That their peasants, ack, what am I saying? That the peasants are really unhappy with Rathhausak, that they're revolting. Or trying to revolt. That kind of thing, y'know?"

He looked confused. "And we care because?…" he trailed off. "Oh, **shit**," he breathed, staring at the floor, then looking up at me openmouthed. "**Damn**. That-that, that could, it could, y'know—"

We were totally silent again. I toyed with the leather cord around my wrist for a few moments, then looked up at him. He was biting his lip, slumped over, gazing at the ground, when he laughed suddenly. "Oh Mithros!" he said, and his eyes sparkled. _I'm learning a lot of new things about Joren, aren't I? _"Gods, Mindelan, don't you get it? All we have to do is get the peasants to support us, and then, and then…"

"—and then it's as good as won," I replied. "If the peasants support us, once Ryer offs him, we're safe. Guaranteed safe passage home. All we have to do is get them to support us, although we might be a little crunched for time. Say, when **is **the mission, anyw….ay……." I trailed off, my gaze dropped. 

"It's in two weeks……." he said, and then realized what that meant. We turned to face each other, his mouth open, my nose wrinkled. "That means…." 

"Oh, **crap**!" we said together, and I kept going. 

"That means in just **ten days**, we have to—"

"—Mindelan," he interrupted, "go get Melka. Now!"

__

Okay, the boy's getting delusional, now. "Fine," I stressed, "I'll get her."

"Just shut up and move! I **am **your knightmaster, I **can **make you do anything—"

"As bloody if!" I retorted. "I'll get her. Try to be a little less of a jerk when I come back," I called, and slammed the door. The still empty hallway echoed. 

***

Five minutes later, Ryer Melka was in Joren's room, lounging on his bed as if she belonged there. _Okay, Mindelan, stop being jealous. She's just Ryer, she just is that way. Alright? **Calm down**. _She looked down upon us, from her more experienced vantagepoint of—how old was she, anyway? Thirty something, but…--and raised her eyebrows.

"So, my loved and loving children," she said sardonically, "what is it that causes you to drag me out of my much desired beauty sleep at this time of night?"

"Well, it wouldn't help, anyway," Joren muttered, inaudibly. Ryer cocked a disparaging glance at him, and sniffed, then destroyed the moment by ruffling his hair.

"You're a cute kid," she told him, and he blushed. _Gods that is a sickening sight. _I sighed loudly, emphatically.

"Can we get back to the original **point**?" I asked, annoyed. "Not to be rude or anything, but I have better things to do than to sit around and watch you two flirt. All right?"

"Gods, Kel," Joren murmured, "calm down." I gave him a mutinous glare, and he laughed. "You're so funny when you're mad. But yeah, I agree. Ryer, even though we all know you find me **terribly **attractive—"

I lost it, and snorted. _They're both giving me the most incredibly amusing looks…_I thought, and smiled artlessly at them, and winked audaciously at Joren, who looked startled. Ryer sniggered. 

"Now who's flirting horribly with Stone Mountain?" she countered, delight in her face. "Although you are more understandable than I am….I still say that y'all would make the more deliciously adorable couple—"

"Ryer," Joren interrupted, his face flushed. "That is—"

"Possibly the **most **moronic idea you've come up with," I finished.

"Yet," he added. "That's rather hard, don't you think? You've had some pretty ridiculous ideas, but me and **Mindelan**? You are totally insane."

"And I agree," I said. "As soon as we're done with this, I am **so **going to get you put away somewhere. **But can we get back to the original topic, no discussions of how cute you think we'd be together**?"

Ryer shrugged, not at all ashamed. "Sure, go 'head."

"Okay," Joren said, trying to sound in charge, and failing pretty miserably. "Well, Mindelan was off, and anyway, she—"

"Oh, **gods**, Joren, let me say it! I overheard the Scanrans saying that the peasants are about to revolt. There. Got it?"

Ryer looked perturbed, but not particularly interested. "And the point of this would be?…."

I sighed, exasperated. "You are **so **dense sometimes, y'know that, Ryer, don't cha? It means that if we convince them to support us, then we'll have—"

"A free ticket out of Scanra," she finished. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I feel very smart at the moment, thanks." She twisted her mouth up for a moment, as if debating where to go with whatever sudden revelation she'd had. "Then you two have to go, don't you?"

"Um, excuse me?" I inquired, "why **us**? Why not you? You don't even exist, remember, officially, anyway, S.M. and I both do. We have jobs, remember? If we skip out on them, they'll—"

Ryer looked offended. "Yes, you two have jobs, but I'm sure it wouldn't blow your cover if you suddenly became ill. I, on the other hand, am an **assassin**, and as such, I can't just go running around the countryside of Scanra, bribing peasants. Be reasonable."

"Ryer—"

"Besides," she continued, "it wouldn't be **that **helpful, anyway. I haven't missed in years, and I won't miss this time. Therefore, we won't need anyone to back us if I miss. Once Rathhausak is wasted, we'll just calmly proceed out of Scanra. Not that hard. It's a pretty moronic excuse for an evil, regicidal plot, y'know. I think we're fine."

Joren and I both glowered at her, his chin jutting out, my fists clenched. _Watch as we whack Ryer to death with heavy blunt objects if she doesn't get with the program. **Now**. _

"Ryer," Joren started, "I don't **care** about your….**accuracy**. We are **going **to do—"

"That," I continued, "and I **personally **care less than he does. We **are—"**

Ryer sighed, raised her hands in a gesture of supplication and clasped them. "Fine, fine. All right? You are being really stupid, you know that. One condition."

"Yes?" Joren asked.

"You two do it."

***

__

Freaking change of plans, I thought morosely, smiling mechanically as I served Rathhausak—I seemed to be serving him more and more often these days, just about every one in fact—and curtsying. _Joren and Ryer just **had **to go off and leave me hear all alone. 'He wouldn't be missed as much as you,' my ass. If I wasn't so kind and non-judgemental, I'd suspect them of running off to sleep with each other, or something. Okay, I need to stop being all jealous. Stop being jealous, Kel, stop being jealous… _"Gods all bless, milord."

He smiled back at me. _He has the most hideous smile I've ever seen_, I thought as I walked away, back to the kitchens. _Yellow teeth are very unattractive, as a general rule. And I could do without the beard. Ugly man, isn't he. _

Zeira, the kitchenmaid who passed trays to me winked. "I see you've gained an admirer, Syrne," she teased, grinning. 

I looked at her in confusion. "Pardon?" I asked. _What the hell is she talking about? _

She giggled, as did Schala, the cooks helper, who was bringing food for Zeira to pass out. "Come **on**," Schala replied, "you can't **possibly **be that oblivious to it all."

"No!" I protested. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about!"

Zeira looked at me kindly. "Really, Syrne, it's all right," she said, comfortingly. "It's all right. I know, since you're married and everything, and Georyn is **so **handsome, that you might not be willing to admit it, but you do know, don't you?"

"I do know what?" I asked. _What are they **talking **about?_

Zeira sighed heavily. "Oh, you poor little duck," she said, fondly, "you really don't know, do you. How old are you, anyway? Sixteen?"

I shook my head. "Fifteen."

"You're only fifteen?" Schala said in surprise, as she came back with a platter of glasses. "Really." She and Zeira exchanged glances. "Rather like robbing the cradle, don't you think?" 

Zeira made an odd little noise, and then proceeded. "I didn't know that you were **that **young, dearie. Oh well."

"Will you just hurry up with it?" I begged.

"Okay," she said, "alright then. Well, it's that the gossip around is, well…"

"Yes?" 

"That his Majesty and you are…are…"

"Are? Are?"

"Well," she said, bluntly, "that you are most likely his next mistress." Recognizing my look of distress, she continued, kindly, "Don't worry, darling, that's wonderful, don't you know? If you are, why, he's **very **kind to his mistresses. And, if you are the next….have you seen the young woman, the one with the red hair, around court?"

"Yes."

"Well, she's his current one, but not for much longer, I hear. Too temperamental. But have you seen those jewels?" Zeira suddenly embraced me, giving me a few pats on the back. "It's a wonderful opportunity," she whispered, "wonderful, if you know what I mean….."

A/N: Once again, I'm back! La la la la la la la la la la la la. I have this planned, perfectly plotted out, through the middle of the next chapter, but I have a lot more planned, because I mean, honestly, even **I **am getting annoyed by the fact that they aren't snogging. I mean, **come **on. And besides, I suddenly have a desperate urge to write a sex scene between the two….J (!)

Thank yous to: Henna, cytosine, Stacey, Blade Griffin, Free2BMe, Lady Sandrilene, Angel of the Storms, The Blind Assassin, Xelena, and Evilstrawberry. But in particular, notes for everybody! They're short this time, though.

Henna: thanks! I got my name cos when I was little, I invented this language, I think it was Tirwindl, or maybe it was Marenethan, I'm not sure, either Tirwindl was the place and Marenethan was the language, or Marenetha was the place, and Tirwindl was the language, I'm not sure, and arimel meant 'grace of spirit' or something like that. You can tell I read too many fairy tales when I was little. :-D

Blade Griffin: I can never reveal my secrets. But if he's going to make out with her, **eventually **he's going to have to fall, whether before or after, who knows? (Hint: Meaning I have no idea. I'm kinda making this up as I go along.) Thanx!

Angel of the Storms: yo. Thanx! I think I should make some even eviler cliffies, though…..what say you?

Cytosine: well, I didn't **say **that I wasn't going to incorporate the rest of the stuff…..along with someone else's idea, too….. awesome! I need to read that.

Stacey: lol! Speaking of wanting them just to have sex now, and get it over with, you aren't the only one. I swear, if those annoying fictional characters don't agree with me and stop acting so moronic and start with kissing/full frontal snogging/making out/sex right now, I am SO going to….

Evilstrawberry: obeying orders as commanded, sir! (I need to stop watching all of those

bad war movies...

Lady Sandrilene: Evil fictional characters. I think I should just put them in a cage somewhere, and be done with it, give them the third degree until they agree with my plots. Grr.... Yes, major slip-uppage. It wouldn't be fair if only Kel was doing that.....

The Blind Assassin: thanks! Well, she had to say something. I'm so glad you thought it was funny! * preens * Yeah, and I want to write some major -!--but I can't do that now, evil characters. The attempted kiss was as close as I could get, dammit. Oh well. C'est la vie. 

Xelena: new person! New person! Watch as I form a conga line! And two LONG reviews….ahh……I'm so thrilled. (!) Anyway……Thanx! So glad u like Kel! Of course we have something developing, though, I'm a hopeless enemy romantic. I.e. I think all enemies should fall madly in love. Its always such a funny concept…Yeah, this is definitely going to be K/J, once I manage to make the stupid characters go a little farther than they want 2 at the moment. Your review actuacly gah! I can't spell! Actually made me laugh. I kinda need one right now…..really long depressing story. Thanx!   


Love y'all!

Ahr

(Oh my god, I think I'm turning into a Southerner. Eek!)


	9. Another Chance?

Disclaimer, completely, totally, and thoroughly random Author's Note: I own nothing. It's sad, but it's true. And I hate this *%#@!~!!!!! computer! The stupid mouse doesn't work! GAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! My computer is a piece of antiquated junk. Correction-a piece of antiquated junk that has no printer, no scanner, no internet access, and the slowest processor I've ever seen, as well as the aforementioned mouse. DAMN!

La. Oh well, at least it's spring time now. I love Houston for that; I might even be able to forgive it for the month of August, which as any one who lives in Texas knows, is the equivalent to the third degree, plus some. It's too bad Dante didn't live now, I'm sure he'd have some more creative things to add to his Inferno. 

'...and all who commit sins will be destined to live in a Houston-like hell, where it is always August, and always in a drought. What's more, the air conditioning system will decide it hates you, and go kaput. You will not live in an adobe house, which is passable in that sort of weather, but rather one of the large brick ones real estate developers are always making...did I mention your job? You're a major executive of Arthur Anderson, but let's go back to the house...you live by the train tracks...'

Ok, that even scared me. I babble way too much. One last thing before the chapter, my friend and I made it up, we got bored. It probably won't be funny to anyone else, but anyway: 

Top Ten Ways To Tell You Go To One Of Those Uber-Exclusive Prep Schools Which Consist Of Geniuses, Legacies, and Idiot Savants: 

1. You have a city-wide reputation as being the preppiest people on earth, and even your gothic-punk-esque friends admit that they, too, are preps. 

2. Your school refused to admit George W. Bush, and said school spends all its time mocking Bush for not being able to get in, even though all of their parents voted for him, seeing as everyone is Republican, and would rather die than vote for a Dem. 

3. In seventh grade, you are already looking at colleges, and you own an SAT prep book. 

4. You, and everyone with older brothers and sisters, know that the entire high school is on drugs, and that percentage-wise, more of them have used than the public high school which is next door.

5.In seventh, you have more homework than the average high school freshman (and you've checked.)

6. You know twelve year olds who go to Paris with their mothers to buy their Chanel. 

7.You **will** get a mental breakdown if you don't get into Harvard.

8.You own math textbooks in classes you haven't even started the preresiquites in.

9.You already have several criminal cartels planned for taking over the world

10.You have such a lack of social skills, you have nothing better to do with your free time than write these lists. 

Ok, yall are all bored by that, I don't care, I found it funny. It's very....my school-ish. Seriously, I go to the oddest educational institution on earth. But whatever. _Qui donne un merde?_ Ok, I also need to work on my French. Why is it that I have about a years worth of education in every language on earth?!?!?!?!?

Anyway, here you go! Present, one time only special deal! Chapter.....nine!

Chapter Nine Another Chance?

There were seven days until that gods-damned public relations event, and already everything was going downhill _Oh, nothing **that **terrible has happened, only that I've been forced to pretend that **I am going to become the Maggot's next mistress.** Not that I could possibly be upset by that state of affairs; no, of course not. Because I'm **Kel,** aren't I? Sweet-little-nice-Kel-who-would-never-be-angry-about-anything-oh-no-she-just-laughs-it-all-off-because-she's-so-gods-damned-**happy**-all-of-the-time-yes-yes-yes-isn't-she-wonderful?-she's-so-nice-so-sweet-I-wish-there-were-more-girls-like-her-in-this-world-...-the-state-of-society...Like **hell** I am. Like hell._

I angrily tugged a comb through the rats-nest I ordinarily referred to as my hair, and it broke into two. "Dammit," I yelled aloud, aware that I was greatly overreacting. _What's wrong with me? Gods, do I need to calm down. Goddess!_ I picked the wooden splinters out of my hair, and threw them against the wall, watching them bounce off satisfyingly. _I_

****

really want to break something. Dammit!

I gave up, and left my hair as it was. I covered my face with my hands. _I think I'm actually breaking my all-time record for severe moodiness...Scary thought...Seeing as the **last** time I broke my record I practically murdered Joren... _I grinned, relishing the memory, and the fact that I'd been able to kick Gorgeous-Boy's ass so easily._ And such an attractive one, too... ok, Kel, chill with the thoughts, you have a major case of lust on him, nothing more, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in... _

"Oy, Kel," Ryer said blithely, walking into my room, and effectively destroying my --_kill the world! kill them all!-_mood. "Morning!"

I turned to look at her, and paused, silently pondering upon what to say in reaction. "Ryer, darling," I replied, finally, slowly, _try being subtle, don't scream, don't scream_, "you do know, I suppose, that you look like a painted pigeon, and that green is not your color, don't you?"

Ryer sniffed aristocratically. "And what would a child like you know about the delicate art of cosmetics? And just where **do **you pick up these….**rustic**…expressions?"

I groaned. "Ry, you look **terrible**. Please. Take it off." She did not look convinced. I clasped my hands beseechingly. "For the love of the Goddess, Ryer, **take it off**!" 

Ryer shrugged. "Fine, whatever. I didn't come here to have you critique my use of cosmetics, you know."

I looked shocked. "You **didn't. **Oh, Ry, that is **terrible**! You mean, you mean that **whatever** I say, **nothing **will convince you otherwise? Oh, that is **horrible**! Simply **awf**-"

"Oh, be **quiet**, Mindelan," Joren of Stone Mountain said, idly leaning against the door. I hadn't noticed him come in. He looked good tanned, almost god-like. It required a lot of self control not to throw myself at him. "You are so annoying sometimes. Melka came in to tell you about the mission, y'know, how it went, **not** about her make-up, although I'll agree with you that it sucks. Majorly. It's a long story, though, you really don't want to hear it."

"Oh?" I inquired, tightly twisting my lips. "Enlighten me, O Wise All-Knowing One. Fill me with the joy that comes from the knowledge of one such as yourself. I prostrate myself at your altar."

"You don't have to be so gods-damned **sarcastic** all the time," he said icily. "I don't have a problem with it most of the time, but calm down with it. Our mission was sort of successful, though, back on topic."

"**Sorta **successful?" I asked. "Is **that** like being sort of pregnant?" 

Ryer lay a restraining hand on my arm. "Kel, you're a sweet girl, and it's a delight and a charm to have met you. **Shut up**. Please."

Jutting my chin forward, I obeyed, leaning back against the head of my bed, gazing at him sullenly. "Go on," I told him, coldly. "Finish, why don't you."

Joren smiled, transforming his face completely. "Thanks for the grudging support, Kel. Thanks a lot. I **really** appreciate it. Makes me feel loved. But anyway, we went, we talked to the peasants, and they agreed that if our mission is successful-"

"-I never miss. Don't suggest anything, junior."

"Never doubted it. But when Ryer's had her shot, they'll revolt, we'll have support, and we'll get a safe ride out of Scanra."

__

And if she misses? There's always a first time, y'know. "And what is the plan if Ryer should be unable to get a direct hit?" I looked him straight in the eye, hoping that perhaps, like in books, that truly **did **phaze people. _Well, apparently it doesn't, but..._

"Well," he said, sheepishly, "that's a bit of a problem. Y'see, if Ryer **misses**....."

"....Yes?"

"Well, then we get to rot in the Scanran prisons until we are executed; tortured, questioned, and all that crap. Worst case scenario, one of us talks, and a war starts between Tortall and Scanra, and worst-**worst** case scenario, they win." Joren shrugged, nonchalant. "Can you spell 'royally screwed?'"

"Why, yes, I **can**. R-o-y-a-l-l-

"I didn't exactly mean that literally, Mindelan."

***

__

Five days, thirteen hours, and twenty-two minutes until the stupid parade; five days, thirteen hours, and twenty-two minutes until the damn public relations event; five days, thirteen hours, and twenty-one minutes...

Goddess. 

It was late afternoon, the sun just setting. I was eating an apple; I was free. I had feigned illness, and was let off of work, and attempting relaxation after a long, complicated day. To put as an understatement, it wasn't working very well. I had been reciting my little count for the past three hours.

__

I am so fucking stressed out... 

I shut my eyes, and tried to concentrate, to meditate, hell, just to think. _My day...._

._..Okay. It starts out, early morning. I have to arrange a place of viewing for Ryer to be in, okay, that sounded really clumsy, but there is no other way to put it. I walk in, have a lively chat, flirtation, whatever with the very attractive owner of said piece of property. He really **is** attractive....but let's get back to the subject. The stupid place is arranged for. Wondrous. Need to skip now. Too much damn energy. Whatever._

So, we have all are positions in place, too. Ry will be up, ready to shoot, and kill Rathhausak, and JJ will lead the guards, maneuvering them into giving her a decent shot. Both of them have okay jobs. Do **I**, yours truly, the one and only most important person in this **world** have an okay job? No. I get to act as the Maggot's mistress, and therefore I have to be down in the parade walking with him. **Mithros**, my life sucks. 

__

Again, unimportant. After we are finished discussing that, Joren and I go on about what we shall do after he's dead. Ryer has another job lined up, so she's out of the picture, but he and I have to go home. It's the middle of June, it took us about four months to get here, so we'll be back across the border by, oh, lesse, forgot how to count, la la la… July, August, September-October. We'll be there by October. We aren't required to be back at the palace until Midwinter....vacation time! We sorta have to visit our families; I can see it thrills him as much as it does me. Month of October at his home, it's closer to the border, November at mine, and back in Corus by December. Pefect... 

I sighed. _I'm really not interested in all this crap_, I decided. _It's a waste of my time_. 

__

And that bastard the Maggot **better** die. If he survives through this whole torturous year, I'm going to murder him. 

The thought made me smile. 

***

__

Three days, three days, three days.... I sat, perfectly postured in the middle of the servant's hall, smiling elegantly as befitted the king's future mistress, and slowly counting down the days until he died. I was really looking forward to it. Perhaps 'looking forward to it' is not the phrase. About at basket case level, although Ryer was worse than me. _We're all on edge._

Joren was more irritable than ever, quicker to quarrel, more argumentative. He kept whittling, but not for any form of art. Just to strip the bark from the wood, and then to crack it into a hundred pieces. We started playing chess, in the evenings, just to pass the time away, and the games invariably turned into total war. Neither of us were very good losers, particularly me. I hate being a good loser. It's much more satisfying to be a sore loser. I'd rather kick them in the shins, knock them down, and steal the victory. He was hardly any better, sulking whenever I beat him, and lording it over me in the opposite case. I was about to strangle him. 

I just had violent mood swings, as always, and very loud quarrels with Joren. He was the only person I could take it out on, because I knew he'd still be there when I was ready to apologize, the only person I could rely on, but of course I didn't tell him that. _There are some things you just don't tell the object of your lust, especially if he is your best enemy_. 

I mentally sighed. _That sounded **so **stupid. And the trio of male evilness is going to **die**. As in, dead. Preferrably in a very painful manner. Goddess, **why **did they have to send us **here**? Of all gods-forsaken regions of the world, they pick a cold one. Raoul **better **send us down south, when we get back, or he will **die**, too. _

Even that line of thought could not hold me very long. I let my gaze wander around the hall, upon the lady's maids, the scullery maids, the kitchenmaids. The housemaids, although this was not a house, the dairy maids. The gardeners, the grooms, the games keepers. The female head of the servants, the male head of the servants. Valets, and maids-of-all-work. They were a multitude, and I felt a pang of conscience for them, conscience for all like them, laboring in obscurity, and then dying. I did not want to possess fame, but it would be nice to have someone grieve for me after my death. For me to be yet **another** name for future Sir Myleses to torture their pupils with. I could

imagine a man droning on.... 'And among them, Keladry of Mindelan, who as all of you know was the second lady knight... Runnerspring, are you writing this down? Punishment work! You and Queenscove...' 

The thought made me smile. Perhaps one day Garvey's and Neal's children would get along, though most likely not. The least I could do after I died would be that, create extra pain for future knights. I recalled some very good memories with Merric, Cleon, and Owen, (Neal being too mature for that, and considering us philistines) burning a few of our books after -**hurrah!**-we no longer were required to **ever** see them again. Those had been good times. I had fit in then. _What the hell...?_

__

Of course, that's it. This isn't, this hasn't been going on forever, just for, oh, two or three years. I **did** like them, didn't I, they **were** my friends. It's only since I became a teenager that this started....stereotypical teen angst? Oh Goddess, I'm starting to psychoanalyze **myself**... 

I bit my lip. _When I get home, if, I mean, if I get home, I should give them another chance, you know, I really should. They're not bad types, just oblivious; I think maybe I was the one with the problem. I just...lost it. For a while, I lost it. And now I feel really uncomfortable around them. I should give it another go, act like I mean everything. They **are **sorta my friends, after all. _

__

I want to go home, I thought. _I'm homesick. I just want to go home. _

So tell me.

****

Is that such a bad thing to ask? 

Second Author's Note: I'm really sorry that this is so late. I just had a rather disturbing month. One of my classmates' fathers committed suicide, and I learned that one of my best friend's fathers is abusive. Add on the fact that they decided to drown me in homework and I concentrated really hard on my dance.... I didn't really have time to write.

EVILSTRAWBERRY: Poor Kel…. Awesome! New synonym for 'totally incredibly make out!' Cool, though I've never heard the word pash before…. Are you **sure **that you aren't making it up…J Thanx! 

ZENIN: Mr. Peter's is gonna FRY me once he realizes what I've done…. BWAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! Think Kel as trophy wife. V. funny image, don't you thin? Ooh….J-J and his UZI…..

KITTYMONSTER: I know, the facial expression is PRICELESS. Don't worry, I have no life at all either, no car, not old enough to have a license, you know. It's ok. Thanx! 

STARJADE: New person, new person! Thrilled ness. Thank you so much! I never thought really that she was boring, just that she was too….**nice**. Any normal person would run around kicking people in their shins if they were bullied, just from my observations. Kinda unrealistic. ThanksHENNA: 200th reviewer!!!!!!! Little firework celebration for me! So happy, so happy! Anyway…well, the creepy old man WON"T become kels love interest, down worry about that, ha ha ha! Cha-ching! 

Stacey: YES!!!! Ha! My plan has been realized! I want to use ur idea, but I have one all planned out, **and **they get to have this **huge **makeout scene…..lol!!!!!!! scariness, mine having as much as yours. But oh well. For the amusement of anyone who reads these things:

****

STACEY"S ( V. AMUSING) VERSION OF HOW IT SHOULD GO:

Joren gets all jealous and DID YOU KISS HIM, YOU WHORE? and Kel would be all SO WHAT IF I DID, NOT LIKE YOU CARE! and then Joren would be like YOU IDIOT OF COURSE I CARE! and Kel could be like WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU'RE BEING WEIRD! and then Joren will be like FUCK YOU! and Kel would be like GLADLY! and Joren will kiss her and they will have hot passionate sex!.....Er.... yeah. Anyway.

Well, **I **think its funny. Anyway, !!!!!!!!!!!!!! the thought of Neal! I think I'm going to go faint right now….. 

Lady Me: I live in Texas, but I wasn't born here. I'm not exactly sure WHERE I'm from, maybe Virginia, or something. Who knows?

Angel Of The Storms: evil cliffies rock my world. They're so fun, and as the author, they TOTALLY feed my napoleonic complex….yeah. ok. Yeah, isn't it AWESOME???? Lol. Thanx! 

Free2Bme: ha ha, maybe I should have Ryer give up and recruit her little sister to kill Rathhausak. What's your name? You could be her, it'd be funny….

****

Free2Bme 's version of how Rathhausak should die

runs up to Rauthusaak (sp?) with a baseball bat and starts beating the tar out of him*   
"Stupid...old...ugly...dude..." *Kel comes in with her staff and asks to take over. I kindly step aside and watch her finish the job as Rauthusaak cries like a baby and calls for his mommy* Kel: That's what you get. Now play nice. *shuts door on his solitary confinement cell*

cytosine: yo. I TOTALLY agree. He's a jerk. Let's all kill him! (NOTE TO EVERYONE: JOIN THE WE HATE FIDO THAT ANNOYING DOG CLUB! CURRENTLY COMPOSED OF…ME! BUT THAZ OK!) so glad u like Ryer, I'm working REALLY hard 2 not make her a mary sue, and its very difficult. Thanx SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much. (Btw, u have a flametorch, we can steal Zenin's knife, and I'll loan u my machete. Tonight, at the creator of Fido's house. Don't forget.) 

Blade Griffin: the last person on my list! Hurrah! Writing personal notes takes a LOT of time, ya know. Yes, we have perfect understanding, and I intend to cooperate fully. * gulp * I hope u don't attack my voodoo doll with pins…. * twists around flailing, with millions of little holes within. * thank ya! 


End file.
